A Book of Five Rings
by Tintinnabula
Summary: Sakura has returned to Konoha, four year old, silver haired son in tow. She'd do anything to avoid meeting his father: last time she did so, she cried for days. They're better off without him. Too bad Tsunade thinks differently. KakaSaku KakaxSaku
1. Chapter 1 Prologue

_Disclaimer: Naruto and associated characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto. They are not my property!_

**A Book of Five Rings—Go Rin No Sho **

_Author's note: Be warned: this is likely to be a pretty long story. It is also likely to have adult scenes (although not for a while), as both Sakura and Kakashi are definitely of age. If that is likely to bother you, please don't read. The same holds true if you are under age eighteen yourself. You've been warned. Also, please recognize that each author has his or her take on how each character may act. Given that this story is an extrapolation, and that the idea of Kakashi and Sakura together is definitely non-canon, I don't think that how they behave to each other can be held to any in- or out- of character standard. In the manga, we haven't seen Kakashi in love-- so each of our ideas about how he might act are pure speculation._

_That said, I hope you enjoy the story._

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

Fuyuno Sakura knew coming home would be difficult, so she'd put it off for as long as possible. Too long, in fact. She'd wanted her parents to meet her son, but for four years she'd forestalled the seemingly inevitable. Now they were gone.

She never would have imagined they'd meet their end in such a colorful way—as a child, she'd been the neighborhood kid with the boring, older parents. She was a "change of life" baby, or so the more callous gossips said. She'd been treated like a princess by her parents, who'd rushed to meet her every need. In that way, and in others, they'd been the antithesis of most of her friends' parents. They weren't shinobi, and were far too old to party, or stay out late drinking and gambling, as so many in Konoha did. But by the time Sakura had turned eighteen, her parents had retired, and with Sakura away on missions, they'd taken the opportunity to begin a new life. They boated, they skied, they hiked. They even rock-climbed. Then, at age sixty, their kayak capsized on the deceptively calm, glassy waters of Hinode bay. Her parents were swept away from their party by a fierce undertow, only to wash up weeks later on an isolated Fire beach. They'd been barely recognizable, or so she'd been told—they'd been identified by the engraved rings each wore.

It would be strange to bury them without the traditional viewing period, and stranger still not to see them a final time before laying their bodies to rest. Sakura smiled as she remembered the comparisons that had been drawn between her and her mother. As Sakura grew older, people remarked that it was her mother and not Sakura, who was the one changing. Her mother's hair, which had been brilliant cerise at Sakura's birth, slowly took on more and more white, causing her overall color to fade closer and closer to Sakura's shade. She'd gotten her hair from her mother, but her eyes from her dad. The photos she'd seen of him in his youth showed that he had been quite handsome, with raven hair and olive skin that brought out the hidden blue tinge in his emerald eyes. She didn't remember him this way, though. His hair had been snowy white by the time she'd been born, his face crinkled with laugh lines and the signs of hard work. When she thought of him, she immediately heard his laugh. He was always one punch line away from a chuckle. No wonder his customers had been so loyal to him over the many years he'd been in business. He had a way of putting people completely at ease.

Tsukiakari was curious about his grandparents. He knew the mule-drawn wagon they were following held their bodies, and he'd asked Sakura innumerable questions about them. He wanted to see them, although that definitely wasn't a possibility. Tsuki, despite his tremendous skills, had yet to see a dead body, and Sakura hoped this would remain true for some time.

She'd decided there was no reason not to return home permanently. With civil war breaking out in the Waterfall country, it was no longer a safe place to be. And her work there was almost complete. She'd been instrumental in setting up a modern hospital and in training a corps of ninja as medics. Medicine in Waterfall had advanced tremendously due to her efforts, and she was rightly proud of this achievement.

There were things she'd miss about the place, though. Takigakure's residents had an earnestness she had seen nowhere else. They were eager to grow and develop their shinobi-based economy, and eagerly accepted any assistance given. In many ways, her medics-in-training had been perfect students—always prepared, ever diligent. And of course, she'd been tremendously respected, despite her young age. It had been such a change from the life she'd led in Konoha. Not that things hadn't begun to change in her late teen years. As Tsunade's student she had instantly commanded respect, and not a little residual fear. But in Takigakure it had been different—she'd been respected for what she brought to her work, not because of the fact that her shisou was hokage.

She'd miss the woods, too. Fire's forests were beautiful, and as she'd reentered her native territory she'd sighed with wonder at the sight of the tall trees that nearly blotted out the sky. But, again, the Waterfall country's were different. The trees there were draped with moss and starry chains of lichen, and mistletoe grew in abundance. The ground underfoot was spongy, due to the thick layers of spaghnum moss that covered the ground under every tree, and sometimes the lower portion of tree trunks. There was nothing like sitting in the woods, examining the bizarre fungi and protozoa that grew up overnight after a brief rain. They had bizarre, though appropriate names, too: dead man's fingers, dog vomit, destroying angel. Tsuki would miss the woods as much as she. He'd turned into quite a naturalist in the time they'd lived there.

And there was Yuki, or the memory of him. He'd been her first friend and closest companion in Waterfall and she'd cried bitterly on learning of his death. He'd been buried, not cremated, so she didn't have his ashes to relocate, just a few photos of the short year they'd had together. She'd packed those and the few other documents she possessed into a metal strongbox, and had loaded it, along with several boxes of clothes and toys onto the back of the wagon as they'd set off to retrieve Sakura's parents. She'd sold everything else. What was the point of moving household when similar awaited her in Konoha?

She'd have to settle her parents' estate. They'd bought a new house since she'd left, and apparently had rented out the old one. She therefore had a least one household to sort through, pack up and donate to charity. She wasn't looking forward to the task. Her parents had lived through some of Konoha's leanest years, and had developed the habits of collecting and saving. Her dad had been worse than her mom. He had seemed incapable of throwing anything away.

Sakura smiled as she remembered the arguments her parents often had over "stuff." The problem was that each valued different "stuff." Their bickering had always been kind-hearted though, and often comical. She missed them. Although they'd never made it to Taki, they'd corresponded often, keeping Sakura up to date on their travels, and their non-shinobis' view of Konoha. She'd thought it would be cruel to tell them of their grandson by means of a letter. Now she bitterly wished she had done so.

They would have liked him. He was smart as a whip, and as lively. Yuki had suggested his name as he'd held the newborn Tsuki in his arms. He reminded him of the moonlight, with his shock of silver white hair and pale skin. Sakura had agreed, happy to see how lovingly Yuki looked at the infant. She really couldn't have asked for more of a friend or partner.

Sakura looked over at her four year old son. She'd run out of things to teach him by the time he turned three. He would ask a question, and unlike most children his age, listen intently until he understood completely. As a toddler, she'd often take him with her when training, and he had mimicked her moves so perfectly, that it had only seemed natural to start him on taijutsu. Ninjutsu had quickly followed, as Sakura had learned in a somewhat frightening way that her son had inherited her near-perfect chakra control. She'd entered his bedroom one morning and found it empty. Immediately she'd feared kidnapping and had rushed from the room, pounding down the seven flights of stairs to the street below. She'd been halfway to the koban when she cued in to the commotion behind her. She'd turned around to see her son nonchalantly walking down the side of their apartment building. Sakura had quickly decided that teaching her son ninjutsu would be the best strategy to avoid future self-taught exhibitions. With chakra control as his at such a young age, he could easily hurt himself if left to his own devices. She'd drawn the line at genjutsu, however, as the idea of her son constructing elaborate illusions to avoid eating his vegetables or cleaning his room had seemed a likely outcome of such training. She was sure she didn't have the patience to endure it.

He was the reason they were moving back to Konoha permanently. Her mission in Takigakure initially was to last only three years. She'd pleaded with Tsunade to extend it another two, and despite misgivings the hokage had done so. Sakura was sure she would have been able to stay even longer in Waterfall, but over time it became clear that Tsuki would not meet his potential by training in his birthplace. Takigakure's shinobi simply weren't of comparable caliber to those of the Leaf, and their training methods were nowhere near as rigorous. In her monthly letter to Tsunade she had broached the subject of coming home, only to have a return message specially delivered by carrier kite. Tsunade was ecstatic at the possibility of having her on her staff, and had a hard time hiding this, even on learning the news of the death of Sakura's parents. Tsunade promised to test Tsuki and place him in the academy, at whichever level was most appropriate. Sakura was sure he would thrive there.

"Five days, 16 hours, 22 minutes and 6, 7, 8, 9, 10…"

"Tsuki?"

"Yes, mom?"

"What are you doing?"

"Counting the time we've been traveling. You said it would take about five and a half days to get to Konoha. But so far, it's taken three percent longer."

She stifled a laugh. The watch she'd given him for his last birthday had been more trouble than it had been worth. "Three percent, huh? We'll be there soon. Really soon. I recognize these woods."

"It's different here. Drier." He brushed his hands along the waxy leaves of camellias and rhodendrons as he spoke.

She'd never thought of Konoha as dry, especially considering the length of its rainy season, but it was dry, compared to Taki. In that place, anything that didn't move was soon covered in algae, moss or lichen. It was the greenest place she'd ever lived.

But Fire was pretty, too, far prettier than any of the other countries she'd visited. She moved off the path to show Tsuki a plant she associated with Konoha, the rattlesnake plantain. She plucked a leaf from the tiny, spotted orchid and rubbed it briskly between her fingers. She then blew into it, and handed the tiny balloon she'd created to her son. He ran over to find another leaf and soon amassed a small collection of green and purple mottled playthings.

_See, Mom and Dad? He's a collector, too._


	2. Chapter 2 Imo jochu

_Disclaimer: Naruto and associated characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto. They are not my property!_

**A Book of Five Rings—Go Rin No Sho **

**Chapter 2: Imo-jochu**

Two weeks before his twenty-seventh birthday, Hatake Kakashi died one thousand times. Each death had seemed final. Each had been immeasurably painful, each sensation magnified and echoed under a blood red sky and crystalline moon. Each time he'd felt his chakra ooze out slowly, through the many wounds and punctures his body sustained, and each time he'd been aware of drawing a last, rattling breath. Yet he'd continued to die. An eternity passed, and finally he _did _die. He'd smiled as he'd fallen from the cruciform structure that supported his inert, wasted body and he'd embraced the deep, inky darkness that flowed around him like a thick, consuming fog. Two weeks _after_ his twenty-seventh birthday, the copy ninja was reprieved from a Tsukiyomi-induced mental shutdown and painfully realized that his innermost wish had not been granted. "Sumimasen," he'd said when the new hokage had chided him, casting aspersions on his ability to handle "two thugs." He hadn't been addressing her, however. Kakashi had been apologizing to his memory of Obito.

He had sought this for so long, and finally, on that life-long day in the river, he had thought he had earned a hero's death. This was the only thing he'd wanted since he'd reached jounin: to die as a hero of Konoha, as a proud and honorable shinobi, not as a legacy of disgrace. To end a life that had been stolen from its more suitable owner. To put right things that were wrong. This was all part of one straightforward goal—a goal that was not at all subtle and shouldn't have been difficult to achieve. Most ninja died within their first five years of duty. The odds were therefore with him: he'd been a ninja for almost five times that. He'd long lived with no dream except the hope of a good death and he'd done everything he could to achieve it. Why else did he accept every S-class mission offered? Why else did he push his body beyond its limit, again and again? He'd use Raikiri until he dropped, and his Sharingan until he fell into the coma-like sleep brought about by the near-fatal purge of his chakra. But he never met death. Try as he might, it never came to that.

He could have given up, of course. The end would come quickly to a ninja who dropped his guard, who battled at less than one hundred percent of his ability. But it wouldn't have been meaningful to die in the line of duty as a result of laziness or ineptitude. Nor was seppuku an option. The memory of his father's own grisly death was burned into his memory, as was the memory of the pain he'd caused his survivors. Additionally, although meant to atone for his betrayal of the village, Sakumo's last act had not accomplished all he'd hoped. Kakashi's father was still thought of as once-valorous ninja who had gone to the bad. Apart from all that, Kakashi had nothing to atone for, and would never put himself in the position where he would need to do so. Instead he fought on, accepting the most dangerous missions, protecting the village to which he'd dedicated his life and hoping desperately that each battle would be his last. But despite his best efforts, the hero's death he sought did not occur.

Two weeks after his twenty-seventh birthday, Hatake Kakashi realized he was not going to die any time soon. So he decided to do the next best thing. He planned to kill himself slowly and subtlely, but surely.

That's what he was doing tonight, nine and a half-years later. He looked around the smoky bar where he sat, alone at a small table. It was quiet, more so than it typically was on a Wednesday evening, although it was still early. There were a few others like him, regulars scattered strategically throughout the small room, separated by unspoken agreement to ensure minimal interaction. Talking with others assigned the same mission of self-destruction was ultimately disappointing, he'd found, and he assumed they recognized this, as well. They inevitably compared their progress, surreptitiously of course, each looking for signs of success in the other. The others were civilians, however, and succumbed far too easily to the ravages of excessive drink. It was discouraging to compare his lack of progress to their obvious achievements. Though he'd been at it for over nine years, Kakashi did not have the jaundiced skin or blood shot eyes worn so prominently by some of these customers, as outward badges of their inner progress. Kakashi was as healthy as he'd ever been, and stronger than he'd been on the day Itachi had tortured him. He was a diligent man, however, approaching the planning of his own demise with the same determination and analytical skill that he afforded all other missions. He'd meet his goal. Perhaps it would occur a bit later than for these civilians, but he'd get there. This self-talk didn't stop him, however, from continuing to compare himself to the civilians in the room, nor from becoming slightly depressed as a result.

Kakashi, therefore, much preferred the company of his colleagues, none of whom were regulars, or that of newcomers to the bar. Preferably women. He'd typically meet up with Gai, Iruka, Genma or Raido at least twice a week, and he'd usually find company for himself after they left. He was sure that all involved were unaware of how much he drank and how often. He planned things carefully to make sure it stayed that way. His personal mission was his own, S-class by its very nature, and therefore not to be discussed with his hard-drinking colleagues or female companion du noir. They wouldn't understand if he told them. Worse still, they might try to get him treatment. Almost all shinobi drank, and usually quite heavily after returning from a mission, whether the mission was a success or failure. His friends, therefore, shouldn't notice anything out of the ordinary. But Kakashi knew that his goals were different than those ninjas usually had when seeking to get shit-faced. They were trying to end the recent memories that plagued them. Kakashi was simply trying to end it.

The copy ninja suspected that Shizune was on to him, though she'd never spoken plainly of it. She gave him a certain look, however, when he returned from the field that she usually reserved for Tsunade. He didn't doubt she attended to his liver when she healed him. But there was little he could do about that, other than redouble his efforts once released, and do his best to avoid visiting the hospital. He'd become quite adept at bathroom surgery as a result, and had self-sutured more wounds than he could remember.

Kakashi swirled the plain-walled glass that held his usual libation, then took a sip, savoring the rough warmth the neat beverage immediately provided as it trailed down his esophagus. He'd become quite a connoisseur of shochu in the intervening years. Imo-jochu was his favorite, its earthy flavor reminding him of the field burning that had happened every fall during his youth. Really, though, anything would do in a pinch. He wasn't drinking for the taste, after all. However given that this chosen form of dying happened rather slowly, he figured he might as well enjoy the process, if at all possible.

The alcohol had two effects, which had made it the logical weapon of choice. Not only did it poison slowly, it numbed immediately. At first, it allowed him to forget that he had failed in his dream, and that with every mission he survived he was continuing to fail. It didn't do that any longer. Over the past few years, Kakashi's tolerance had increased considerably. His nights of blind drunkenness and forgotten gaps of time had ended, to be replaced by hours of wakeful numbness followed by dreamless sleep. That was okay with him. He'd done some things while blacked out that he regretted once he'd learned of them, and had been fortunate that he had not been found passed out in the street on the several occasions that he hadn't made it home. Being found in such a state surely would have cut short his self-imposed mission. Kakashi now drank only enough to numb himself— a liter, or two, depending on the strength of the shochu, which varied by type. He drank enough to mask the pain that was his constant companion, and to further the ultimate goal of destroying his liver, but nowhere near enough to allow him to forget.

He was glad that shochu still provided him the opportunity to sit and be still, without feeling the constant crushing pressure of his misery. The thought of these respites allowed him to get through each mission. Of course, he didn't drink while on duty-- that might lead to the non-heroic death he held in contempt. Although he considered it unlikely that he'd meet his end in the way he greatly preferred, he still held out hope that it could happen. It was possible, just improbable-- but maybe he would get lucky. Kakashi therefore only drank when in Konoha, and always discreetly. This place was his Wednesday locale. Thursday's was another shabby bar, and so on throughout the week. He almost never drank at home. Doing so would be dangerous, as Konoha was a fairly small town, with a small town's share of gossips. His garbage would be taken note of, if it were filled to the brim with empty glass bottles. Besides, sitting in a bar afforded certain luxuries he was sure that he deserved.

There was one, now. He raised his glass to the blonde who'd sauntered into the dim, underdecorated room, and who was now scanning the room with appraising eyes, as if looking for something. Or someone. Their eyes locked, and she smiled. She was definitely a civilian, and that made her his type. Every civilian female he'd met was at least slightly intimidated by their ninja protectors. That worked out perfectly for him. Civilian women were eager to please, asked very few questions, and were more than willing to observe the rules he set forth. He smiled to himself as he looked away. He'd let her have a few drinks, then approach her with a quiet suggestion that they get to know each other a bit better. It was the perfect line—slightly suggestive, but not offensively so. If he'd read her wrong, she'd have no excuse to slap him, pour her drink on him or make some other troublesome scene. But if he'd read her right, he'd know right away—she was sure to come up with an appropriate response, even if it was only a certain look in her eyes.

She'd be good for an evening. He always limited it to that. He told them up front that he didn't want to know their names. He was brutally honest, in fact. For him their interaction would be about satisfying his sexual urges. It should be that for them as well, and that only, so that no one got hurt. It was surprising to him how many accepted immediately, almost without a second thought. True, he had a reputation—all shinobi did—but he'd always thought that women wanted more out of sex than mere sensual pleasure.

He kept the mask on. That was one of the rules, and surprisingly very women few objected. He had thought that lip to lip contact would be important to most, but again he'd been proven wrong. It was an effective rule, allowing him to get the release he needed while maintaining his distance. He broke this rule only occasionally, and always by his own volition. In that case, his companion would wear his hitae-ate as blindfold. They always agreed to that, for some reason. Sex with a ninja was apparently a thrilling experience, no matter which limitations were imposed. Out before dawn was another rule he'd put in place after the first few years of the mission. The sex might or might not last nearly all night, depending on his degree of inebriation, but even if this were the case, he had found that he had no desire to wake up in another's bed, or with someone he barely knew in his own. The necessary apologies were grueling, and the hurried exits humiliating for both involved. Much better to end things while it was still dark, and keep the act and its anticlimax compartmentalized as the last portion of an alcohol-influenced night.

"Kakashi! My eternal rival!" The copy ninja looked up from his drink to see not one, but two green-clad atrocities strolling toward him. As he had drunk nowhere near enough to cause him to see double, Kakashi assumed the worst, and groaned inwardly. One sat on either side of him, and for a moment, in the blinding light of their smiles, they were indistinguishable. But it was Gai on the right—he was just beginning to grey, and often bemoaned the fact. His younger twin and protégé, Lee, was also slightly taller than his former sensei. He resembled Gai closely, however, almost as though they were father and son. His teeth were preternaturally white, and his voice had deepened into a booming bass just as enthusiastic as that of his idol. Both seemed slightly intoxicated, more so than Kakashi, in fact.

"We were wondering where you were, Kakashi-sensei."

Kakashi looked from ninja to ninja. What were they talking about?

"The funeral."

Again, no clue. Although he guessed that there had been a reception after said funeral, and that the alcohol had flowed freely.

"Did you not know that your former student's parents had died? Kakashi, always lost in the clouds. Of course," here Gai clapped him soundly on the back, "you'd probably miss your own funeral."

"Sakura's parents? I didn't realize…" That explained the near-empty bar. Haruno Junichi's sense of humor had been legendary, easily as sharp as his business acumen. It was no exaggeration to say that he'd had no enemies in the town. Even his competitors thought kindly of him. His wife had been shy, but friendly, as well, and had also been admired by the community. She had the knack of listening carefully to her customers to understand each one's needs, and remembering them perfectly months or years later. She made each person feel as though he or she mattered, or so Sakura had often said. Their funeral must have been packed.

"They were on vacation and had an unfortunate accident. Sakura brought them back yesterday. Such a shame…" Lee's eyes brimmed with tears as he mourned two lives cut short. Not that it was quite accurate to think so, of course. The Harunos had led long and full lives, much longer than the average citizen of Konohakagure.

"Sakura's back? Hmm." Kakashi looked up to see the blonde at the bar pouting at him, adjusting the light sweater she wore. She was obviously preparing to leave. He picked up his half empty bottle and excused himself. He had his priorities, and right now the two green beasts of Konoha were nowhere close to the top of that list.


	3. Chapter 3 Prodigy

_Disclaimer: Naruto and associated characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto. They are not my property!_

**A Book of Five Rings—Go Rin No Sho **

**Chapter 3: Prodigy **

"No." Sakura stood before her mentor defiantly, hands on hips, a crease forming between her brows. "Absolutely not. He's only four!"

"Sakura! You will not address me in this manner!" The fifth hokage rose, glowering, and slapped her hands on the weighty desk that had lasted for the past several weeks. Made of ipe wood and reinforced with hidden steel bars, it had been dense and sturdy enough to withstand the brunt of her chakra-charged outbursts. Still, it groaned a bit under the assault of her open palms.

"Please excuse me. But, Hokage-sama, this is _not_ what we agreed to. You said that Tsuki would be placed in the academy. He's just a little boy. He's not ready--"

"I said that he'd be placed at whatever level was most appropriate." Tsunade's eyes sparked with the righteous anger seen in those whose authority is rarely challenged. She retained this authority by meting out creative (and usually, excessive) punishments for the few who did dare cross her. Naruto, for instance, had suffered several of these humiliations, as a result of his frightening inability to control his tongue.

But the words Tsunade referenced weren't exactly accurate. Sakura had a clear mental picture of the contents of the healer's last letter to her, and those were not Tsunade's words—at least not _all_ of them. Sakura knew better than to further correct her shisou, especially considering the malevolent look being cast her way, but her frustration mounted as the village leader continued to speak.

"Sakura, you've known for years that Tsuki is a prodigy. Yesterday was my first time meeting him. You were overly modest in your letters," Tsunade relaxed a bit as she sat down again and motioned for Sakura to do the same. "The village hasn't seen a child like your son in many years."

"Since Sasuke." It wasn't a question, rather a statement of fact. It still stung a bit, Sakura realized, to think of her first crush and the way he'd turned against not only her but the entire village. She hadn't considered him in so many years. The lingering pain surprised her.

"No. Since well before Sasuke."

"Itachi, then?" Hadn't he been made an ANBU captain at age thirteen?

"It's been over thirty years since the academy took on a child so gifted, at such an early age." Tsunade slid a report across the desk, and Sakura immediately recognized her former sensei's neat, precise handwriting. "Iruka just sent this over. It says that Tsuki passed the graduation exam on his very first attempt, even though he was unfamiliar with a few of the jutsu. Iruka demonstrated each technique once, and Tsuki understood immediately and executed them perfectly. Read it for yourself."

Sakura scanned the document. Iruka had been kind enough to mind Tsuki during the previous day's funeral and subsequent reception, and with Sakura's permission, he'd taken the opportunity to test the boy. At first, he wrote, he'd tested Sakura's son casually, but as his skills became more and more evident, Iruka had moved through a series of formal tests, concluding with the graduation exam. That assessment was more strenuous than the one she remembered from her days at the academy, Sakura saw as she read through the report. Her cohort had only to take a written test and produce a simple clone. Iruka had upped the difficulty considerably since those days, it seemed. Tsuki had been given a full practical exam, including henge, the rope untying jutsu and the shadow-clone technique. Iruka had even thrown in the body-flicker technique, which usually wasn't learned until late in a genin's training or early on as a chunin. Sakura grimaced at the thought of her son appearing and disappearing at will. As if it wasn't hard enough to keep up with him already. Additionally, she read, Tsuki been assessed in basic skills such as deflecting and throwing kunai and shuriken, and basic taijutsu. He'd earned a perfect score in each of these, and had received the highest grade possible on the written exam.

This success didn't surprise Sakura. Her wall-walking son had ceased surprising her some time ago. The last time had been when he'd read the newspaper aloud to her, reading kanji after kanji flawlessly. That had been over a year ago. Apparently, he'd taught himself as he sat on her lap at night when she read from her medical texts, but neglected to share his new ability until he learned enough to be proficient. Once he'd done so, Tsuki had proceeded to devour every book in the small apartment they'd called home, whether written for child or adult. Her son seemed to have inherited Sakura's abilities at comprehending with minimal effort, in addition to her fine chakra control.

Tsuki was intelligent, gifted even, but he was still a young child, and not that far from toddlerdom. He was a little boy, from his round, dimpled cheeks that showed spots of color when he giggled, balling up into perfect apples to half hide his smoky green eyes, to the perfect tilt of his button nose. He had a little boy's laugh, and at times, a little boy's attention span, often preferring to pretend with his ninja figures than actually practice ninjutsu. He had little patience for baths and shampoos and other aspects of hygiene, and he preferred slip-on shoes to those that tied, out of the sheer obstinacy inherent in small children. (Sakura smiled at the thought. He knew how to tie his shoes. He merely chose not to be bothered with such a mundane task.) Tsuki's clothing was that of an average four year old: his pants were the standard little-boy wear, complete with elasticized waist and false fly, and his preference in shirts ran to those with pictures of dinosaurs and wild animals. Sakura doubted shinobi attire was even made for such diminutive sizes.

Sakura sighed as she continued to read Iruka's report. The senior teacher and recent jounin had written in larger characters across the bottom of the page, "Nothing left for Tsuki to learn in a classroom setting. Recommend he begin genin apprenticeship immediately. Suggest one-on-one tutoring: age difference with teammates likely problematic." Tsunade, therefore, had all the support she needed, although Sakura didn't doubt that lack of evidence would have held the hokage back. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, and with little forethought. But despite this impulsivity, the woman was canny in carrying out her plans. She'd waited until the very end of their scheduled two-hour meeting to let Sakura know about her plans for Tsuki, after an overly long monologue about Sakura's new role as head of the medical staff. She'd also been sure to let Sakura know that her next few visitors were waiting in the anteroom. She must have guessed that the presence of others would lessen the intensity of Sakura's response.

"We must do what is best for the village, Sakura. As a ninja you know this. We are finally in the position we were in before the third hokage was assassinated, but we can't rest on these achievements. Tsuki will be a tremendous asset to the village, and the sooner he is trained, the more he will achieve." She regarded the jounin before her, who seemed almost as angry as she had been minutes before. "I know I don't have to tell you this, Sakura, but I will, nonetheless. As a ninja under my command, you have no say in this matter."

Sakura slumped in her chair. She fully understood. As hokage, Tsunade had near-dictatorial control over her ranks. Although she rarely chose to do so, she had every right to interfere in shinobi's personal affairs, if it furthered the interests of the village to do so. This was clearly a situation that met that criterion.

"Tsunade-sama, what exactly are your plans for my son?" Sakura's voice was fittingly bleak, given the occasion.

"As Iruka recommended, Tsuki needs one-on-one attention. This is what the third hokage decided the last time we had a genin so young. He assigned the prodigy to the best candidate for the task, and the two worked alone until the boy was old enough to be an active team member."

"So he didn't do missions while he was still so young?"

"No, he most certainly did. He wasn't assigned to a team because _socially_ he was too young. His shinobi skills were exceptional, and they were put to use immediately. Sakura," the hokage's voice softened as she tried her best to mollify Sakura. "I fully recognize Tsuki is only four. He doesn't have the social skills of an eleven or twelve year old. There's no way he would be able to interact effectively with team-mates that old. But that doesn't mean he can't accomplish a mission. He'll have the best teacher. And there are certain advantages to being so young, in fact."

Sakura attempted to swallow the lump rapidly growing in her throat as she considered the types of missions Tsunade was undoubtedly imagining. Espionage, most likely, or placement of explosives in locations only a tiny body could access-- any mission, really, where a young child would be unexpected or unnoticed. Her son would be in danger. She had counted on at least eight more years before her worries about his likely future would become real. But there was nothing she could do about it. Tsunade had informed her, minutes earlier that the Waterfall country was now in the midst of a full-blown civil war. The skirmishes had escalated into open, bloody battle-- there was no way Sakura and her son could return there now. There was also, she realized, no chance that Tsunade would release her again.

"Who have you decided will be his sensei?" Someone patient, Sakura thought. Someone who understood small children and the often strange behavior of four year olds. Kurenai, perhaps? She had been so good with Hinata, and was a mother herself.

"There was absolutely no question about it. The best man for the job is the man who experienced it himself."

Sakura looked at her mentor questioningly. Just who was she referring to?

"Did you tell him, Sakura?" Tsunade looked at the young medic with a penetrating gaze.

"Tell who what?"

"You didn't tell me who the father was when you left, but now that I've met Tsuki, it couldn't be more obvious. Sakura, does he know?"

"I...I…" Sakura was momentarily at a loss for words, but as her understanding of her mentor's comments grew, so did her fury. "You have got to be kidding!" The plate glass of the many large windows in the hokage's office shook with Sakura's shout, and the dense tropical wood of Tsunade's desk cracked slightly under the savage blow Sakura inflicted against it. Sakura struggled to calm herself, biting back the epithets that sprang to her tongue. She breathed deeply, then chose her words carefully.

"No, shisou. He doesn't know. It was a mistake—a terrible, drunken mistake, and he made it clear to me after it happened that he didn't want anything more to do with me. How can you—" her eyes welled with hot tears of misery mixed with rage. "How can you do this to Tsuki and me?"

Tsunade waited for the young jounin to collect herself, then continued.

"I can see you have strong feelings about this, but my decision is final. Tsuki will report to the academy tomorrow at seven. You can drop him off on your way to work. Kakashi will collect him from there for training. Iruka already gave Tsuki his hitae-ate, I believe. Congratulations on your son's achievement."

Sakura blindly rushed out of the room, slamming the heavy double door behind her.

Tsunade frowned as she ran her fingers across the splintered area on her formerly pristine desk, then looked up to notice the brand-new crack above the door-- Izumo and Kotetsu would not be pleased.

"They weren't wrong when they called her mini-Tsunade."

…o…o…o…o…

Kakashi awoke from a dark, dreamless slumber to simultaneous pounding within his head and against his apartment's entry door. He rose from the tangle of sheets and blankets on the single sized-mattress that served as both bed and sofa, and staggered across his studio apartment to answer the door, pulling on yesterday's pants as he did so. He opened the door slightly, to see the faces of Tsunade's main minions, Izumo and Kotetsu, both grinning widely.

"Tsunade wants you in her office in one hour exactly. You don't want to be late."

"She's in a pissy mood," Kotetsu added with a half-laugh.

"What is this about?" Kakashi stifled a yawn and scratched at the base of his head. Another mission, so soon after the last one? She'd promised him a week's R and R. He really should have known better than to believe her.

"She didn't say, but from the look on her face it's important. I really wouldn't be late if I were you."

"Fine. I'll be there in an hour." Kakashi shut the door without the pleasantry of a good bye, shuffled into the apartment's small bathroom and downed several glasses of water. He then returned the only other room in the space, apart from the miniscule kitchen, and flopped onto his bed. Tsunade could wait. He needed to get his hangover under control. It wouldn't do to look and sound like hell in front of his employer.

It seemed like only minutes had elapsed before he heard the pounding again, although it was much more urgent this time. This time, however, the pounding was not accompanied by a rhythm within his head. Thankfully, his headache had diminished to a dull roar of discomfort. Kakashi removed his head from under the pillow he was using to block out the mid-morning light and considered whether it would be worthwhile to pretend he wasn't at home. Maybe they'd think they'd just missed him in passing, and that he was chatting with the hokage at this very moment.

"We know you're in there. She's furious. You're two hours late."

Kakashi dragged himself out of bed, muttering under his breath as he did so. He swung open the door and looked at the two secretaries (he refused to think of them as assistants) irritably. "I assume you'll give me five minutes to clean up?"

"Just put on some clothes. You really don't want to piss her off any more than she already is." The two pushed past the hung-over ninja and into his cramped apartment.

"What were you doing last night? It stinks in here." Kakashi ignored them, back to the pair as he rummaged through a small chest of drawers, intent on the task of finding a clean shirt to wear. Kotetsu grinned as he hooked a pair of panties with the toe of his sandal and lifted them up to show his partner. The other stifled a laugh, then pointed to the empty bottle that lay on its side on the nightstand.

"Explains a lot, doesn't it?" This was whispered, but the technical specialist turned on them with a glare. Apparently it wasn't just his sense of smell that was enhanced.

"If you two are finished dissecting my personal life, I'd like to get on my way. Will you be escorting me?" Unsuccessful in his attempt to find something clean to wear, Kakashi pulled on the shirt he'd worn the day before, as well as his standard vest and hitae-ate, then headed for the door.

"Nah. Now that you're up and moving, we assume you'll be okay." The two flickered out of sight, and Kakashi sighed in relief.

He hadn't brushed his teeth, he realized when he was halfway to the administrative building. And he really could use a shower, he thought as he climbed the spiral staircase that clung to the outside of the cylindrical building. The sunlight bounced off the white concrete of the steps and light, stuccoed surfaces of the nearby buildings, causing his headache to return with a vengeance. Hopefully, this meeting would be over quickly. He needed to get some more sleep. The night had been a long one, his date more energetic than he'd imagined she'd be. She'd been a talker, his least favorite type. It had taken quite a bit of effort to get her to shut up, but when she finally had, things had gotten better. She'd been… versatile. Better still, she'd been eager to find out what he liked. With the help of the bottle of shochu he'd carried home with him, he'd had a few hours of pleasure unsullied by thoughts of failure.

Shizune looked at him critically as he ambled into the room and approached her desk, and crinkled her nose as she examined the oversized calendar which lay beneath her coffee mug. "Right on time," she smiled, looking up at him. Then she'd hurriedly left the room, no doubt to inform Tsunade of his arrival. Kakashi commandeered the chair furthest from the room's several windows, and pulled out his faithful orange friend. He hadn't bothered asking Shizune the purpose of his meeting with the hokage. Unlike the near twins who'd awakened him twice this morning, Tsunade's oldest protégé took her job seriously and was completely devoted to her mentor. And a bit cold, too, now that he thought about it. He settled into reading his book, pausing only once, when the building shook suddenly, as though a minor quake had traveled through the area.

He didn't have to wait long, however, until Shizune returned, beckoning for him to travel the short distance to the hokage's office. He walked down the dim hallway in no hurry to get where he was going, but without worry, either. It was probably just another S-ranked mission, and he'd probably be able to talk her into either some extra vacation time as reward for the promised R and R he'd be giving up, a bonus, or both. The door opened to the hokage's office, and Kakashi was nearly knocked off his feet by both the percussive slam of the door and by the woman who then bowled right into him. He fell back against the wall as the woman bounced off of him, lost her balance and dropped to the floor. It was Haruno Sakura, he realized as she stared up at him, none the worse for wear after her long absence from the village, and prettier, actually, then he remembered. There were tears in her eyes, he saw, so with his usual false cheeriness he raised his hand, and attempted to make her smile with his standard, "Yo," followed by "Welcome home."

She looked at him with a strange mixture of revulsion, incredulity, and quite possibly anger, then sprang to her feet and hurried down the hall. She still hadn't forgiven him, he realized, as he opened the thick, polished door to the hokage's office. He'd almost forgotten about that incident himself. But why had she been crying? He didn't doubt that Tsunade was a hard person to have as one's immediate supervisor. It probably was a huge adjustment to return to Konoha and her shisou's authority. Kakashi leaned against the open door, hands in pockets, as he waited for Tsunade to acknowledge his arrival. After several moments she looked up and motioned to him to enter, a calculating look on her face.

"Take a seat. This won't take long, but it bothers me when you stand there looking as though there's any other place you'd rather be."

This wasn't a suggestion. Kakashi sat immediately, stealing a glance at the godaime's desk, to see if he could glean any information from its contents. It was surprisingly tidy—all of the customary paperwork was either in tightly rolled scrolls or closed folders. He waited for her to begin.

"Hatake, I've been watching you for the past few months, and I think it's time you had a change."

She'd been watching him? Just what had she learned? That he visited seven different bars a week, in a fairly predictable pattern, and that he took home seven different women a week? That he drank sometimes with friends but more often alone? That he had a death wish?

"All jounin have the responsibility of training genin, and it's been quite a while since you've taken on a team. You haven't, in fact, since team seven."

_And we both know how well that turned out._ Kakashi resisted saying this aloud. Instead, he spoke factually. "No other genin have passed my test."

"Your infernal bell test. I think it's more likely that you haven't wanted to take on a team."

True, but those genin really hadn't deserved to pass.

"No student that I've failed has ever succeeded as a ninja."

"I'll get to the point. I want you to take on a student. Just one."

"Who is he?" It was too early in the year for graduation. Was this some cast-off from another team? Kakashi had no intention of nursing a reject student for the next few years.

"Someone like you. His skills are exceptional and a match for yours."

Kakashi regarded Tsunade through hooded eyes. "Like _me_? Meaning what exactly?" An arrogant asshole, like Sasuke? An orphan? A lover of dogs?

"A prodigy. He's an academy graduate at age four. He's brilliant, learns with minimal effort. You could teach him a lot. In fact, you're the best candidate for the job."

"Do I have a choice in this?"

"No. His name is Fuyuno Tsukiakare. Tsuki for short. Pick him up tomorrow, at seven thirty sharp at Iruka's office. You'll begin full-time training immediately, and pick up missions as soon as you think he is capable."

"Ma'am."

"You'll need to know a few things. First of all, I won't tolerate laziness. I've heard some stories about the way you trained team seven and about the slacking off that occurred on your part.

_But it worked, didn't it? Well, except for Sakura. I could have tried harder with her._

"I expect you to be at the academy precisely at 7:30 and to work an entire day. Then I expect you to walk him home, as he's still so young. Don't let me down, Hatake. Tsuki is a tremendous asset to the village, and I wouldn't be entrusting him to you if I didn't believe you had the right combination of experience and skill to take him on."

"If you think I have the skills, why do you doubt my training methods?" Ooh, that was impertinent, he thought belatedly. Tsunade's delicate features deformed as she erupted with anger.

"You will not address me in such a tone of voice, Hatake Kakashi. If it happens again, you will be busted back to chunin and I will see to it that the next three years are the most miserable of your entire life. Got it?"

"Wakarimashita. Moushiwake arimasen, Hokage-sama."

"And you will not corrupt this child with Jiraiya's pornography."

Kakashi blinked, then smiled imperceptibly under his mask.

"Or that of any other author, for that matter."

The copy ninja frowned. Loophole closed.

"And Hatake? I expect that you will do your best not to smell like a brothel when you are around this child."

Like a _brothel_? He really should have showered. No wonder Shizune had looked at him strangely. He probably stunk of alcohol and cigarettes, too.

"Any questions? No? Then you're dismissed."

Kakashi quickly left the building and stood, collecting his thoughts, in the minimal shade he found under the roof overhanging the main entrance. Sensei to a four-year-old? Forget the nap and shower. He needed a tall, stiff drink.

Glossary:

Wakarimashita—"Understood" (formal).

Moushiwake arimasen—formal apology.


	4. Chapter 4 Epiphany

_Disclaimer: Naruto and associated characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto. They are not my property!_

**A Book of Five Rings—Go Rin No Sho **

**Chapter 4: Epiphany **

It was close to ten a.m. when Kakashi entered the long corridor that bisected Konoha's ninja academy. He hadn't meant to be late, but he'd overslept after throwing his alarm clock across the room. Its grating noise was not something he liked to hear when hung over, or on any other occasion, for that matter. He'd drifted back into a near dreamless sleep, populated only by the pounding sounds of what he guessed were giant taiko. Eventually, the sun's rays changed their angle enough to cast their light across his face, and he woke up to the usual pounding headache (the actual source of the rhythmic beat within his dream) and desert-dry mouth. He found his clock, noted the time with a grimace and rushed out of his small apartment, carrying the two-belled timepiece under his arm. He hurriedly made his way to the headmaster's office, where he fully expected to find an irked Umino Iruka waiting. Kakashi pushed open the office door and breathed a sigh of relief. Iruka was not present. That was a good thing—he had a feeling the headmaster was under orders to report any misbehavior on the copy ninja's part. Iruka was a good man, but definitely a by-the-rules guy, as Kakashi had once been. As a result, he was unlikely to let anything slide, particularly a direct order from the village's most superior ninja. But he wasn't in his office, thankfully. The only person there was a tiny figure, seated, back to him, at a small table which stood by the window. The boy's hair glistened almost pure white in the late morning sunlight, like a sparkling, downy halo.

He was just a scrap of a child, Kakashi realized as he moved closer. He masked his chakra as he did so, and carefully peered over the boy's shoulder. His student was intent on his work, littering the page before him with an assortment of crayon-drawn kunai and shuriken. They were remarkably well-detailed for a boy of his age, Kakashi thought. The boy had done a good job capturing the radial symmetry of the star-shaped fighting tools, and had even thought to draw in the binding wrapped around each kunai. Odd choice of colors, though. Kakashi had never seen a purple shuriken before.

"You're my sensei, aren't you?" So the boy had recognized his presence, which was fairly impressive, though he still hadn't done Kakashi the honor of turning around to acknowledge him. The boy sighed slightly, as he continued, "Osoi! Iruka-sensei said you'd be late. I've been waiting for two hours and three minutes, you know. Seven thousand three hundred and eighty seconds. Eighty-one. Eighty-two--"

"I'm here now, so you can stop that." Konoha's smallest ninja was apparently a bit anal-retentive about time. Great. Just great. No wonder Tsunade had saddled him with the boy. This was likely Kakashi's punishment for his inability to turn in his mission reports on time. Or maybe she was just a sadist, plain and simple. He'd have to crush the small watch the boy wore, at the very first opportunity.

"He also said you'd tell me some story." The boy turned in his chair and smiled in the completely open, soul-revealing way that is usually possible only for young children. "I love stories!"

"It's Tsuki, right? Fuyuno Tsuki? I'm Hatake Kakashi, and yes, I'm your sensei. Let's get going, shall we?" The boy had dimples, he noticed, as he ran a hand across his own face.

Tsuki leapt up from his chair and was at his sensei's side immediately. "What about my story? Does it involve tigers?"

"Sure. That's why I was late, you see. I came across a pack of roving tigers in the town square—"

"Tigers don't travel in packs, sensei." The boy's voice held the slightest note of disapproval, and his nose crinkled in a very familiar way.

"Did I say pack? I meant a lone, single tiger. Mean as can be, though. He was at least twice my size…"

"Really? What did you do?" Tsuki looked at him, eyes wide in anticipation as he hurried on his little legs to keep up with his much taller sensei.

"I did the only thing a person can do in a situation like that."

"You threw a jutsu at him?"

"Jutsu doesn't work on animals. And I didn't want to wound him with a weapon, either, as he hadn't attacked me."

"Oh." The boy nodded in understanding, his expression grave. Kakashi noticed the very slight sharpness to the end of his nose, discernable even through the baby fat which softened his immature features. His chin had the slightest hint of a cleft, as well, and the smoky green-grey of his eyes was hauntingly familiar.

Kuso. Kakashi's mind drifted as they continued to walk. Could it really be possible? Wouldn't Tsunade have mentioned it during his briefing? No, he realized, as he remembered the smile of secret delight she'd tried unsuccessfully to hide. The woman really was a sadist.

"So what happened next?" He'd lost his train of thought, he realized. What had they been talking about? He scrambled to come up with a conclusion to his story.

"Um, I gave him my breakfast. Turns out he was just hungry for miso soup."

"Oh." The boy nodded again. "That makes sense. I could eat it for every meal. Mom says—"

"What does your mom say?"

"She says I might turn into a giant edamame." Kakashi smiled at the thought of Tsuki as a hyperactive legume with legs.

"What's your mom like?"

"Well, she's beautiful and smart, and she smells nice, and I love her so much."

"I'll bet you do." The boy probably wouldn't wonder why he was asking so many questions—he was completely open and innocent. And he seemed to be a talkative one, himself. "So what does she look like? Like you?"

"Not really."

"No? Is her hair silver like yours?"

"I don't think so."

What kind of answer was that?

"You don't know what color hair she has?"

"I have protanopia."

"Nani?"

"I'm colorblind. Her hair is a little darker than mine, and it's longer than mine. She's told me what color it is a million times, but some colors are kind of the same, you know? Her hair looks blue to me, but maybe it's not. Maybe it's lavender. I forget. I know it's not a normal color, though." Tsuki shrugged his shoulders at the annoyance of trying to remember such an inconsequential fact.

Training a color-blind apprentice was going to be a bit of a challenge, Kakashi realized. This was yet another thing Tsunade had neglected to inform him about.

"What's her name?"

"Duh. Mom." Tsuki looked at his teacher incredulously.

"Doesn't she have another name?"

"Uh huh. Mrs."

Kakashi sighed. He was getting nowhere fast. "So what else can you tell me about your mom?"

"I'm going to marry her when I grow up!"

Kakashi chuckled. He remembered saying the same thing to his own mother at about that age, when she'd seemed to be his entire world.

"Isn't she married?" he asked the boy as he racked his brain. Had he slept with a blue- or lavender-haired someone named Fuyuno who was now a single mother? If so, wouldn't he have heard of his fatherhood by now? Surely the woman would have come banging on his door a long time ago with an angry father or brother at her side. _Fuyuno_. The name didn't ring a bell, but that wasn't surprising. Kakashi rarely bothered to learn the last names of the women he went to bed with. Hell, he often didn't bother with their first names.

"He died." Kakashi looked at the four-year old, apology on his lips, then noticed the boy seemed unperturbed. "It was when I was a baby," he continued, with the worldly air of a child who is long past diapers. "I don't remember him. Mom says he was nice, though."

Kakashi let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. If Tsuki's mother was married, he had nothing to worry about. There were other people in Konoha with silver-white hair. He could think of five without even stretching his brain. And certainly he wasn't the only person in the village with dimples or a sharp nose.

He smiled at Tsuki as they entered the training field, his solitary eye crinkling above his mask.

"I'm going to give you a little test to find out if you're really ready for this. Your job is to get this bell from me, by whatever means necessary, before lunch. If not, I'll be eating without you." He set the clock on a nearby post as he'd done years before. "Do whatever you need to do to get the bell. Throw kunai, shuriken, use any jutsu you've learned, whatever. Got it?"

"Hai!" The boy ran off into the woods without a moment's hesitation.

…o…o…o…o…

A four-year-old had made him sweat. A four-year-old had made him lift up his hitae ate so that he could use his Sharingan. How was it that a four-year-old was so accomplished with the body flicker technique? It had seemed to Kakashi as though he was being assaulted by some spiritual being—a zashiki-warashi perhaps—some giggling, rambunctious ghost child who had quickly made him feel his age.

Kakashi had a thought a four-year-old, even a four-year-old described as a prodigy by the hokage, would be easy to break. He'd crept up on the unsuspecting boy and used a genjutsu. As Tsuki was so young, Kakashi had decided against any violent imagery—there'd be plenty of time for that later—and had instead chosen a mirage of sorts. Tsuki had been presented with a beautiful, yet fierce tiger a mere body's length away from him, but surprisingly had seen it as genjutsu, immediately dispelling it with an authoritative "Kai."

He'd then gone on the attack, realizing Kakashi must be somewhere close by. His strategy appeared to be a shotgun approach—by popping up in any and every spot in the vicinity, he was likely to bump into Kakashi rather quickly. Kakashi had used a teleportation jutsu to move away from the boy, and had chuckled quietly as he watched the boy popping in and out of view in the distance.

He had tremendous energy, and he was obviously quick-witted. What's more, he was a natural genjutsu user.

His aim wasn't bad, either, Kakashi realized as a series of shuriken whirred toward him. The copy ninja easily deflected them with the kunai he held at the ready, then realized with a shock that the boy in the distance was still popping in and out of sight. _That_ boy was too far away to have thrown these projectiles.

Had all that been a distraction? Kakashi grinned at the boy's artfulness as he threw a kunai towards the likely source of the shuriken. He heard a faint pop, and the sound of more shuriken approaching from quite a different direction. Was the boy using shadow clones? How could he have possibly learned that already? There were at least six of them, too.

Kakashi had flipped up his hitae-ate at that point, and as if on cue, shuriken began flying toward him from five different directions. He was hard pressed to deflect them all, and had to rely on kawarimi to avoid being punctured. The boy was immediately on his trail, however. He was a natural strategist, it seemed.

Kakashi took to the trees. He'd be safe here, he figured, as boy's movements so far had been confined to the forest floor. He deserved a rest, he thought as he settled onto a rather springy upper branch and braced his back against the trunk. And he might as well reward himself with a little light reading. He was quickly engrossed in the well-loved plot of the thin, worn novel he carried everywhere.

"What's that about?" The words, accompanied by slight pull on his waistband and a subsequent jingling noise, interrupted Kakashi's reading.

Kakashi snapped the book shut. He hadn't intended to be caught reading it, as Tsunade had specifically warned against doing so. Of course, he hadn't intended to be caught at all.

"I didn't think you'd be able to climb this high."

"I didn't." The boy sat down beside him, and tried to get a glimpse of the orange-clad book his teacher held, bouncing a bit on the supple branch as he did so. So much energy.

"You tree walked?" Kakashi secured the small volume in his shuriken pouch, and regarded the boy.

"It's so much fun! It drives mom crazy when I do it at home. She won't let me stand on the water in the bathtub, either."

"Naruhodo." Who was this boy? Kakashi smiled to himself. One thing was for sure. It had not been an insult to be assigned as his teacher. This boy would be a challenge, and it was clear that as a shinobi he would accomplish many things. Tsunade had not been exaggerating when she'd described him as a tremendous asset to the village. The boy was hokage material. Kakashi realized he was looking forward to developing this new relationship.

"Let's get some lunch, Tsuki. Then we can begin your training."

…o…o…o…o…

It was well past five when Kakashi dropped Tsuki off at his home. It was a beautiful residence, Kakashi noticed, far smaller than the manors owned by the important clans of the village, but impressive nonetheless. Apparently the boy's parents were fairly well off. The house looked to be only a few years old, and was of a pleasing, modern style, with large windows and several balconies. Kakashi had left Tsuki at the front door, and heard the echo of the bell as it rang throughout the house. He turned to see that the door had not yet opened. Apparently Tsuki's mother was not yet home. He reluctantly trudged back up the walk and sat with the young boy on the front steps.

"Is your mom late a lot?"

"Ha! She used to have my grandma Fuyuno stay with me, because sometimes they needed her to work extra shifts."

"Really. What does she do?"

"She works at a hospital."

A blue- or lavender-haired woman who works at a hospital. Kakashi racked his brain as he tried to think of the many nurses who had treated him over the years. Had there been an especially gorgeous one with colored hair? It was hard to reconcile the words "blue-hair" and gorgeous, he thought, as visions of elderly nurses flickered through his mind. It was probably a pointless endeavor, anyway, as the boy clearly had a father named Fuyuno, but somehow, Tsuki reminded Kakashi of himself. And it was more than just the similarity in hair and facial features. The boy had his laugh, and he clearly was a smart one.

"Here she comes!" Tsuki jumped up at the sight of a shopping-bag laden woman some distance away. Kakashi squinted a bit as he tried to get a look at her. Impending middle age was doing wonders for his vision, it seemed. She wasn't blue haired, he realized as she came closer. Or lavender. Her hair was distinctly pink, a beautiful pale cerise he remembered well.

"S-s-sakura?" That was the only word he could manage. He was struck speechless.

"Kakashi." Her face was expressionless, a fired mask of porcelain, but Kakashi could feel the tension just below the surface. He struggled to find his voice.

"I didn't realize Tsuki was your son."

"And?"

"That's all. He's an amazing kid."

"I know." She walked past him and fumbled with the many bags she carried, in search of her keys.

"Let me." Kakashi reached for a bag, only to be warned off.

"Don't." Sakura pressed against the unlocked door with her shoulder as she turned the knob, then shooed Tsuki inside.

"Sakura—" She turned to face him, still encumbered by her shopping.

"Yes?" She sounded tired, empty, cold.

"If it's any easier for you, I can pick Tsuki up here. That way you won't have to stop by the Academy."

Something passed across her face as she stood silent for a moment, thinking over his words. It seemed almost like anger, but more subdued, Kakashi thought. Finally she spoke.

"That won't be necessary." Sakura shut the door firmly in his face, leaving the copy ninja dumbfounded once again.

…o…o…o…o…

He needed answers. It wouldn't do to risk looking like a fool when he confronted her, although his gut told him there was only reason she could be acting so cold toward him. Still, he decided that he needed data to confirm his suppositions. Kakashi stopped by the academy building on his way home, and with a quickly fabricated excuse at the ready, located two files and slipped them under his zipped vest. He hurried back to his apartment and with more haste than was usual for the normally languid jounin, summarily dumped out his top dresser drawer onto his double size bed. Atop the formerly folded undershirts and masks were some photographs he'd avoided looking at for years. He picked them up now, and set aside all but the largest item, a crisp cardboard folder imprinted with the name of the studio where the portrait within had been taken.

It was their last family photo together, though it hadn't been their final year together. His father had been away from home so often that photos like this were a rarity, and he remembered that his mother had to prod and cajole to get the White Fang of Konoha to agree to set aside the time to pose for this one. His dad had worn his mask, of course, much to his mother's chagrin. Kakashi looked lovingly at the image of his mom. Her long dark hair shone as brightly as he remembered, and he felt something warm inside him as he looked at her soft features. He could almost feel the light touch of her hands against his shoulders and the encompassing warmth that radiated from her whenever she smiled. There was no question about the eyes. They were the same smoky green-grey color he had seen earlier today, the pupils ringed with a small corona of amber yellow. He'd never seen eyes like that on any person apart from her.

Kakashi's eye moved to inspect the image of his four-year old self. He had the same plump cheeks as the boy he'd seen today, the same curve and sharp point to his nose, the same dimples, the same chin. Even their eyebrows had the same arc to them. Tsukiakare was the spitting image of his four-year old self. The Sharingan user pushed aside the scattered articles of clothing that littered his bed, and flopped onto it, unzipping his vest as he did so. He pulled out the two files he'd secreted there, and thought for a moment before opening them.

He didn't remember much about the night he'd spent with Sakura—only two things: waking up next to her, with sudden horrific realization that he'd somehow deflowered his only female student, and fleeing from her apartment as quickly as possible after this realization. He knew it had happened on the eve of her birthday, but being unreliable with dates, he had absolutely no idea of when that day might have been. He'd just gotten back from a mission in Sand, he remembered. When had that been? Almost five years ago. It was cherry blossom time in Konoha. Sakura was about to turn eighteen, and her friends had been helping her to move into her first apartment. Izumo and Kotetsu, as her coworkers under Tsunade, had been part of the moving party, and had pestered Kakashi relentlessly until he agreed to give them a hand. He hadn't helped much with the actual moving, as there were more than enough people to move his former student's meager belongings, but he had drunk more than his share of the alcohol that flowed freely afterward. What happened subsequently that evening was a blank.

"March 28," he read as he scanned Sakura's file. He counted eight and one-half months forward, then flipped open Tsukiakare's file. "Date of birth: December 19."

"Kuso."

Why hadn't she told him?

…o…o…o…o…

Getting Tsuki to bed was always a chore. He typically refused to take a bath, coming up with novel (and admittedly amusing) reasons for his reticence. On most nights, Sakura tended to play along with him, eventually getting him into the tub for a quick soak and then into bed, where he'd read aloud to her for a while before finally winding down enough to fall asleep.

Tonight had been quite different. Tsuki had been full of tales of his tiger battling teacher—tales which caused Sakura to want to roll her eyes. She didn't, however. She intended to respect fully Tsunade's choice of Tsuki's new sensei, regardless of her personal feelings for him. That didn't mean, however, that she had to be anything other than frostily polite to him. She had planned to keep him at arms' length. It shouldn't be hard, she had reasoned with herself. After months of tutelage and comradeship as his student and then team member, she had learned little about him, and it had been clear to her at that time, that this was very much of his choice. She had been shocked, therefore, by today's offer to pick up Tsuki each morning. The Kakashi she knew, the lazy, perverted womanizer, would never do such a thing. It had disturbed her to see him acting out of character.

Once she'd shut the front door, Tsuki had nearly tantrummed. He wanted to invite his sensei in for dinner, and was shocked by the sharp "No," his mother had given in response. She was always gentle with him, and her unusual tone of voice brought him quickly to tears. As patiently as possible, Sakura had done her best to let her son know that while it seemed like a good idea, it just wasn't possible. She didn't feel bad about telling Tsuki that Kakashi was a very private person, and that while he was an excellent teacher, it wasn't likely that he'd want to spend time with him outside of their lessons. It was the truth, after all, a truth she had experienced. Tsuki had seemed crestfallen for a while, but he'd rebounded, sharing story after story about his first training session, and about his success at the bell test.

It was after ten by the time he fell asleep, well past his bedtime, and Sakura returned wearily to her own room, after a quick shower. She would be falling straight into bed tonight—no reading of abstruse journal articles or patient files. She walked into her darkened room, and didn't even bother turning on her bedside lamp. She threw her bathrobe across the bottom of the bed and crawled naked into the bed's welcoming softness, attempting to pull the duvet across her as she did so. Surprisingly it didn't give. It felt as though it were either stuck on the bedframe or as though someone were sitting on it.

She moved to switch on the bedside lamp, only to hear a soft, familiar voice.

"When were you going to tell me, Sakura?"

She blinked as the light bulb imprinted itself on her retina, and turned toward the copy ninja, who was lying peacefully on his side, propping his head upon his bent arm and hand.

"What are you doing in my house? In my bed?" She did her best to keep her voice to a whisper as she yanked the duvet to cover herself. She wished she'd locked her bedroom door. Tsuki had a tendency to get out of bed a least once per night, sometimes early, sometimes late. She hoped his nocturnal perambulation would not happen for a while on this particular night. She had no idea how she'd explain his teacher's presence to him, otherwise.

Kakashi's voice was calm, and not at all accusatory.

"I think that I deserved to know that I fathered a child. I take it you didn't agree?"

Sakura clasped the accessible portion of the duvet to her chest as she reached for her bathrobe. Back to the copy ninja, she slipped the garment on, then rose from the bed to face him. Her eyes narrowed into fiery emerald shards as she spoke.

"What makes you think you're his father?"

She'd never heard him laugh before. She'd heard the dry noises he made when chuckling over his precious novels, and the occasional sniggers at the teams' expense, but she'd never heard him laugh with abandon. He did that now, though quietly.

"He looks exactly like me."

"Plenty of people have silver hair, you know. Kabuto, Jiraiya—"

"Jiraiya's is white."

"Same difference."

"Sakura, he has my features. He looks exactly the way I did when I was his age."

"Oh." How was she supposed to know that? The man never took off his mask, for pity's sake.

"And he has my mother's eyes." She didn't hear the subtle change in his voice as he added this small piece of information.

Sakura moved to the closet bordering one side of the room, and slid a door aside. She pulled out a strongbox and rummaged inside. "So he looks like you. Big deal. Are you telling me I'm related to everyone who has pink hair?" She pulled out a sheet of parchment and returned to stand near the bed.

"I'm not a fool. Don't treat me like one." She heard the slightest tone of a threat to his voice.

She didn't care. He had no right to be in her house, in her _bedroom_. If it weren't for Tsunade's interference, he wouldn't be anywhere near Tsuki, at all. He had always done a first class job avoiding her. It was completely conceivable that he would have never found out about Tsuki's existence, let alone put two and two together. Why did her shisou have to complicate things? She glowered as she waved the piece of parchment in the copy ninja's face.

"You're not his father. Read it."

Kakashi took the piece of paper from the angry kunoichi and scanned it. There was Tsuki's footprint, a tiny, lined imprint, smaller than the length of his pinky finger. His date of birth was listed, along with some legal information from the Waterfall country. There were two signatures, as well. Sakura's he recognized. Next to it was that of Fuyuno Yuki.

"This doesn't mean anything, Sakura."

"Of course it does! Tsuki has—_had_ a father. My son—"

"_Our_ son."

"_My_ son thinks he was born out of love, not some drunken roll in the hay."

Kakashi rose from the bed, and reached out to grab her, thinking better of it at the last moment. The last thing he needed was a chakra-laden hit to the gut. Or elsewhere. It was clear she was furious with him, and that this anger had simmered for almost five years. But she'd never even mentioned a pregnancy to him. She'd just picked up and left.

"So this is punishment. You never even gave me the opportunity to do the right thing!"

Sakura snorted with derisive laughter. "You don't even remember, do you? I guess I shouldn't be surprised by that." She took a deep breath as she steeled herself. "I'm going to ask you one more time to leave. Then, I'm going to _make_ you leave. And if my son hears, well, I'm betting he'll think a little less of his new sensei. Tsunade gave you that, Kakashi, over my objections—the opportunity to get to know Tsuki. If you don't leave now, I won't rest until she takes that away from you, too."

Kakashi backed away from her, moving slowly until he bumped into the bureau across from the large bed. A furious Sakura was an unpredictable Sakura, and an unpredictable Sakura was a very dangerous kunoichi. Best to move slowly and carefully in situations like this. She was like a short-fused explosive tag. "This conversation isn't over, Sakura," he said before he left in a cloud of smoke and leaves.


	5. Chapter 5 The Dattebayo Game

_Disclaimer: Naruto and associated characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto. They are not my property!_

**A Book of Five Rings—Go Rin No Sho **

**Chapter 5: The Dattebayo Game**

Kakashi materialized 100 meters away from Sakura's front door, within the cover of a small grove of trees. He needed a drink. Or several. It really had been a rough day. First, being saddled with a genius near-toddler, next, finding out that said genius was indeed his own son. Finally, coming to the very reasonable conclusion that his son's mother would stab him through the heart if only she could find a way to get away with it. He made a mental note to avoid being teamed up with Sakura for the foreseeable future, on any B- or higher-ranked missions.

Tsunade seemed to be on his side, at least. She had worked things out so that he would be mentoring his own son, after all. He had no doubt that she had been aware of this when she assigned Tsuki to him. Kakashi wondered just how long she had been holding onto this critical piece of information. Had Sakura told her of Tsuki's paternity before leaving Konoha five years ago? Or had the hokage found out only days ago, upon Sakura's return? Kakashi racked his brain as he walked back to his apartment, second-guessing every interaction he'd had with the godaime over the past half-decade. It was no use, he finally realized. She'd had a knowing glint in her eyes and half-hidden smirk on her lips long before this incident occurred. He sighed as he wondered what else Konoha's leader might be withholding from him.

"You don't even remember, do you?" Sakura had hissed at him, as he backed away from her slowly, as one should do when dealing with someone completely unreasonable and on the brink of a mindless rage. Irrational or not, however, she was correct in her inference. Kakashi didn't remember a damned thing about their specific interaction five years ago, but as he backed away from her, he'd realized how he might find out. And, thankfully, the very tool he'd need to do so was lying right within arm's reach on the highly polished dresser he'd bumped into.

Kakashi hurried home. There'd be time for a well-earned dose of inebriation later. He'd need his faculties intact for the technique he was considering. He headed straight for the bedroom as soon as he entered his small apartment, not even stopping to remove his sandals. He did remove his vest, however, before sitting cross-legged on his bed, back supported by a pillow laid against the bare wall that served as headboard.

He'd done this particular jutsu countless times on others, but never on himself. Still, it should work. He uncovered his Sharingan, formed several seals, then lifted the hand mirror he'd borrowed from Sakura's dresser so that he had a clear and close view of his swirling, kaleidoscopic eye. He spoke aloud, commanding himself to remember that day, almost five years ago, and immediately slid into a hypnotic reverie.

It was like simultaneously watching and acting in a movie, he thought, a bit like dreaming, but more intense, more real. One part of him was an objective bystander, while the other part relived each recollection. He found himself at Sen-bon Senbon, his favorite afternoon bar, a place where he typically had a few drinks, but not enough to mentally impair himself, at least not enough for others to notice. (He would move onto a seedier, less frequented place for that, later in the evening.) His favorite beverage was before him, the decanter seven-eighths empty, and his faithful orange companion lay open in front of him, on the small table he had to himself. He was well away from the smoked windows, but as they entered the bar, Izumo and Kotetsu made a beeline to the dim corner where he sat. They pestered him for a good five minutes, using every trick in the book—guilt, shame, goodwill, responsibility, camaraderie, jealousy, promise of free food and alcohol (that was the one that did it)—until he finally rose from his seat and left the bar with them.

He quickly found himself before one of Konoha's many large and forgettable apartment buildings, and he groaned inwardly. It was a walk-up, as most in Konoha were, with metal staircases that were poorly protected from the elements, and which formed tight corners as they switched direction. They were perfectly designed for an afternoon of moving, if their designer was a bit of a sadist, that is. There was a light rain falling, typical for this time of year, which would only add to the experience he was about to endure.

He needn't have worried. Sakura did not have much to move, as this was her first apartment. And the big stuff had already been set into place, he saw as he entered. He heard the grunting noises of what could only be Akimichi Choji coming from the bedroom, and the low swearing of the laziest jounin in the village, Nara Shikamaru. From the clattering metallic noises accompanying these noises, Kakashi inferred that the two were likely assembling the frame to support Sakura's mattress, which was currently wedged diagonally into the narrow hallway leading away from the kitchen and dining area. Izumo and Kotetsu really were persuasive, Kakashi thought fleetingly, if they were able to get the lethargic strategist to help with the moving.

The apartment was otherwise empty, as Izumo and Kotetsu had left immediately after letting Kakashi into the place, presumably so that they could join Sakura at her parents. He'd been instructed, tersely, to start unpacking as they'd left. Kakashi ambled over to the refrigerator, retrieved a bottle of beer, and staked out a prime position on the broken-down sofa that had been deposited rather haphazardly in what was to be the living area of the small space. He supposed he should make himself look busy, in case any one actually helping with the move was to enter the apartment, so he pulled the closest box toward himself. It was filled with dishes, he saw. He carefully unwrapped a few, setting them on the scarred end table that stood close to the couch, half-opened another, and placed it next to him on the couch, to have at the ready. A shinobi should always be prepared, after all. He then pulled out his copy of _Icha, Icha,_ propped his feet up on a box, took a long swig of beer and began to read.

Kakashi, as bystander observing this scene, was somewhat bored by this recollection, as he had a full memory of it. It wasn't as though he had a different view of things as an observer. He couldn't see himself, as one occasionally did in dreams, although he did find it interesting that he could make out the individual characters and kana on each page the participant Kakashi read. The mind was a very strange thing, holding more information than he might have guessed. He hadn't used the Sharingan while reading, so the level of detail he saw couldn't be attributed to that. His normal eye must be able to take in more data than he realized. Kakashi laughed at himself. He'd never pictured himself as a scientist before.

The other Kakashi read for quite a while, undisturbed. The genius strategist and his former teammate were having quite a difficult time getting the bed frame together, it seemed, and had resorted to swearing at each other. Then there was a muffled, scrabbling sound that Kakashi decided he didn't want to recognize. And more groaning. No, moaning. The copy ninja flipped to a dog-eared, well-loved section of his book and increased the volume of his internal voice as he read.

He was disturbed then, by the easily recognizable sound of Konoha's ichiban hyperactive, knuckle-headed ninja, who hadn't changed much (apart from his height) in the six years Kakashi had known him.

"Sakura-chan! Why won't you tell me? What did Granny Tsunade say?" Naruto's whine was earsplitting, and not for the first time, Kakashi credited the pink-haired kunoichi for the patience she'd displayed these many years in putting up with him.

"I'll tell her a thing or two, dattebayo!"

"Naruto, can you just forget it? She wasn't talking about you. She almost never does, you know." Sakura's voice betrayed the irritation she attempted to conceal as she walked into the apartment, nearly dwarfed by the oversize box she carried. Kakashi picked up the half-wrapped dish he'd set beside him, pulling off the paper covering just as she turned toward him and smiled with a started grin.

"Sensei! I never thought I'd see you here. Not on moving day, anyway."

"Sakura," he heard himself say. "Don't sell me short. I've always come through for you when it's really counted, haven't I?"

She raised an eyebrow, then turned and walked into the kitchen, Izumo and Kotetsu in her wake. Kakashi overheard her not so quiet comment to the pair. "Figures he'd show up once the heavy lifting was done. There aren't even any boxes left to move. Just unpacking."

"Well, it did take a while to find him. " Izumo, apparently was on his side. Or neutral, at the very least.

"Kakashi-sensei! Listen to what happened to me today." The blonde hurricane nearly tackled him with a bear hug. He never had learned that Kakashi wasn't the most demonstrative type of person. Kakashi bore it stoically, however, as he half-listened to his former student's inane prattling. "Shino and I were coming back from a mission to Tea, and he was being really annoying, as usual, ordering me around, so I said, "I'm not your subordinate, dattebayo—'"

"Are you sure it's permissible to tell me this, Naruto? Weren't you and Shino on an A-ranked mission?" He took a long swig of beer as he regarded the unlikely shinobi, who'd turned away from him to consider his former mentor's words.

"Oh, right." Kakashi saw the wheels turning in the kyuubi container's mind for quite a few moments before he spoke again. "I'll just leave out any important details, okay?"

"But if you leave out the important details, why would it be worth telling?" Kakashi rose from his seat, collected the small stack of plates next to him, and walked toward the kitchen. "Be right back, Naruto. I need another beer."

"Oh. Get me one, too!"

"I'll be happy to. Once you're legal."

Kakashi the observer grinned. It was always such fun to deny Naruto. The look of outrage he had just given Kakashi had been priceless. The copy ninja returned his attention to the drama unfolding in his mind's eye. This was where things had begun to get blurry for him. He felt the alcohol seeping into the half of him reliving these events, dulling things a bit, while his other half remained as sharp as ever. The dichotomy was a bit disturbing.

He could hear Sakura's voice well before he stepped into the tiny kitchen, due to his finely honed sense of hearing. Apparently this sense remained undulled by alcohol.

"Why does he make me feel this way, after all this time?"

Was she talking about him? She sounded frustrated. Sexually? He entered the room, to see Izumo and Kotetsu both perched on the countertop and grinning widely.

"I mean, he still follows me around like a puppy, even though he's dating Hinata, and it's always "dattebayo" this and "dattebayo" that. I swear, he's driving me crazy!"

"Well, do you play the dattebayo game?" Izumo smirked as he handed her a beer from the carton he'd apparently pulled from the fridge.

"Huh?"

"Didn't Tsunade teach you? She showed us the day she moved into the residence." Kotetsu handed Kakashi a beer, as well as an opener.

"It's a drinking game, Sakura. Every time Naruto says, 'dattebayo,' Tsunade takes a sip of sake. She credits her sanity to it." Kakashi set down the plates he carried before opening his beer, then beckoned to Sakura to pass him her own. He expertly pried off its cap and returned the bottle to her.

"But she said it was tea."

"Why do you think her mug is glazed in green?" Izumo laughed as he mimicked the fifth hokage knocking back a few shots.

"Does Shizune know?"

"Know what?" Sakura's senpai appeared in the doorway, flanked by Ino and Hinata.

"About the dattebayo game." Sakura looked at her senior questioningly.

Shizune blushed.

"Apparently, she chooses to look the other way." Kakashi gave a dry laugh at the older medic's expense.

"Sakura, don't you even have a table?" Ino barged into the room, and frowned as her gaze lit upon the glaringly empty dining area adjacent to the kitchen.

"I was planning on buying one next pay check."

Ino deposited a large, flat electric griddle on the kitchen counter, nudging aside Sakura's colleagues as she did so.

"Never mind, forehead, I'll set things up here, and people can eat buffet-style. Hinata, where are the ingredients?"

"Gomen nasai, Ino. Here." Hinata set two brown paper grocery bags on the counter and began unloading the contents of the first.

"We assumed you wouldn't be able to find your cooking supplies, that is, if you even have any, so we've brought everything we'll need." Ino smirked at Sakura's lack of culinary expertise, causing a noticeable flush to rise to the cheeks of the cerise-haired girl.

"What are we having?" Kakashi asked, in an effort to deflect the attention from his former pupil. He was hungry, however, and Asuma had said very complementary things about Ino's cooking skills, he remembered. He'd be repaid amply, he realized, for the drudgery of moving.

"Okonomiyaki. Once the ingredients are set out, just tell me what you want on it and Hinata and I will make it for you." Ino pulled an apron from a bag and washed her hands, then busied herself opening plastic containers containing the necessary ingredients for the pizza-like pancakes.

"Tako?" Izumo's mouth was watering.

"No. The fishmonger was all out. But I did bring squid." She gestured to an open container holding the mottled, fleshy rings.

"Not exactly the same, but still good. We'll get out of your way. Give a yell when you're ready." Izumo and Kotetsu left the kitchen, Kakashi, Sakura and Shizune close behind.

"I'm sorry, Sakura, but I can't stay. Believe it or not, I have a date tonight. Here." Shizune picked up a tall, brightly colored paper bag and handed it to her kohai. "This is in honor of your first apartment, and your coming of age."

Sakura pulled a very large bottle of sake out of the bag and looked at the older medic nin in surprise.

"I know you're underage, but it's a silly rule, considering our profession, ne?"

"That's what I always say! If you're old enough to kill, you're old enough to drink, dattebayo!" Naruto apparently didn't notice the beer bottles moving in unison toward their owners' lips as he moved closer to the trio of Shizune, Sakura and Kakashi. "You don't care if I have a beer, do you, Sakura?" He turned and frowned at his former mentor as he asked this.

"Be my guest, Naruto. Just don't do anything stupid in front of Hinata." Kakashi saw her wink at Naruto, as an embarrassed look passed across his face. Apparently there was a story worth hearing here. Kakashi was sure a couple of drinks would loosen Sakura's lips enough to dish the dirt on her vulpine friend. He took her nearly empty bottle from her as she moved to hug Shizune goodbye, and made a beeline to the refrigerator, stopping only for a moment to ask Ino for shrimp and lots of negi on his okonomiyaki, and the request that the ingredients be layered atop each other, not mixed.

He hurried back to Sakura's living area, and staked out a seat on her dilapidated sofa, and beckoned her to join him. Izumo and Kotetsu had seated themselves on the concrete floor of the small balcony, he noticed, and appeared to be singing. It was a show tune, if the copy ninja was not mistaken. The slightly taller aide had his arm wrapped loosely around that of his companion.

Kakashi shook his head. In the short time he'd been here, two of the village's more persistent rumors had been confirmed for him. He passed Sakura a fresh bottle of beer as she joined him and noticed how eagerly she imbibed.

"When did you start drinking? You seem to be a pro."

"Actually, this is my first time. I have to say, though, I really do like the taste of beer." She smiled lopsidedly, and Kakashi guessed she was already a bit drunk. "Shizune's gift is the third bottle of sake I've gotten today. For some reason, people seem to be encouraging me to drink. They must think I'm uptight or something. Do you think I'm uptight?"

Kakashi shrugged noncommittally, as he didn't think Sakura would appreciate an emphatic "yes," but she didn't notice his body language, as she'd already moved on in the conversation. "The one Ino gave me is huge, and the one Choji and Shikamaru gave me is peach —" She stopped mid-sentence. "Where are the two of them, anyway?"

"I haven't seen them." That was the truth-- he'd only heard them.

"Kakashi-sama, your okonomiyaki." Hinata, always unnecessarily formal, set the fried delicacy in front of the copy ninja, then blushed and hurried back into the kitchen, followed by Naruto.

"You know, I really don't think we should be feeding you, considering the amount of work you've done here." Sakura picked up the plate, and held it just out of reach of the copy ninja. "Besides, I love negi and shrimp." She picked up a wedge and bit into it, rolling her eyes in delight as she did so. "So good."

"We can share, can't we?" Kakashi the participant looked at Sakura imploringly. Kakashi the observer felt his stomach growl. He probably should have eaten before beginning the jutsu.

"Only if you promise to help me clean up after dinner, and unpack. I have to work on Monday, and there's no way I'll be able to take care of all this tomorrow on my own."

"Deal. Can I have my dinner back?"

"Half of it."

"Ino and Hinata can cook you another."

"No. I'm hungry right now. And this is my house, isn't it?" She seemed to be deriving quite a bit of pleasure from stealing his food, so Kakashi, ever apathetic, went with the flow. Or so he let her think. He leaned back against the sofa as Sakura nibbled on the small wedge she had claimed, and waited patiently for his opportunity.

"I don't believe it." Kakashi's eye widened as he looked past Sakura.

"What?" She turned to follow his line of sight, only to see Izumo and Kotetsu hugging. "Big deal. I see that every day. Actually, I've seen a lot more than that." She turned back to the Sharingan user and their shared dinner to find only crumbs remaining. "You'll get indigestion eating that fast, you know." She looked at him curiously. "Is there some sort of jutsu involved?"

"Trade secret."

"There must be. Your beer is almost gone, and I haven't seen you pick it up even once." She giggled. "So is mine. Can I get you another?"

She was joined on her return by the rest of the movers—minus Choji and Shikamaru, that is. There was little conversation for a while, as each eagerly tore into his or her dinner, but soon Naruto spoke up.

"Hinata and I are planning on telling her father about our relationship tomorrow."

All turned to him, wide eyed. Ino spoke first, ever the gossip monger, eager to get the details correct. "You mean he doesn't know you're dating? How could he not know?"

"You'd be surprised at the things my father misses where I'm concerned," Hinata said softly, and surprisingly, without blushing. "But my father does know that we're dating. He doesn't know—"

"He doesn't know we're getting married, dattebayo!"

No one remembered to lift bottle to lips. It was Sakura who broke the silence this time. "This is a really big decision, Naruto. You're still only eighteen."

"So? There's nothing he can do to stop us. I—well, Hinata's checked. He can't force her to marry against her will."

"That law was abolished when the council revised Konoha's charter last year," Hinata said softly. "Along with dowries. My father was furious when the elders made the changes. He didn't tell me, of course, but the maid heard him fuming over it. So I asked Koharu-sama about it." This was easily the most Kakashi had ever heard the shy heiress say in one conversation.

"Plus, I plan to get her pregnant on our wedding night, dattebayo!" A hush fell over the room again, and Kakashi was certain he'd never before seen a human being blush the intense shade of tomato red now displayed by Hinata. He looked around to see every person in the room, save Hinata and Naruto, furiously gulping down his or her beer, in a seemingly misguided effort to put things right.

Sakura was the first to raise her bottle in a toast, though the others soon followed. "Um, I can tell you're serious about this, so good luck to you—to both of you. I have to say, though, Naruto, I've never thought you as a father, before."

"Oh, I'm sure Hinata will whip him into shape." Kakashi smiled, then nearly shuddered as he considered the thought of changing stinky diapers and burping a howling infant. He wanted no part of that type of life, himself.

"Here's to the breeders!" Izumo and Kotetsu cried in unison as they clinked their glasses together, before standing to give the all-but-engaged couple a hug.

"We have to be going. We've got a double date tonight." The pair didn't see the raised eyebrows Izumo's comment elicited, as they were already headed for the door.

"Thanks so much for your help!" Sakura seemed nonplussed by their eagerness to leave, Kakashi thought, though she was doing her best to hide it.

"Oh. Nearly forgot. This is for you, Sakura." Kotetsu pulled a package from the overcoat that hung near her front door, and tossed it to her. "Ja mata," the pair said as they left.

"I've got to be going, too." Ino looked eager to put the gossip mill in motion. "Congratulations, forehead. And happy birthday, although I'll see you tomorrow." She pulled Sakura to her as she whispered something into her ear.

Sakura giggled in response. "Oh, I'm planning to. Don't worry."

"We should get going, too. Hinata and I have a dinner reservation."

"Do you ever stop eating, Naruto?"

"Gotta feed the beast." He smiled as he helped Hinata into her coat, gently placing a kiss on the Byakugan-user's cheek as he did so. "Don't forget our annual dinner date tomorrow, Sakura-chan."

The room had cleared out quite quickly, Kakashi noted, but sudden announcements of the intent to elope with the daughter of an overly possessive powerbroker tended to do that. Not to mention the too-much-information quality of Naruto's subsequent announcement. The copy ninja stretched and headed for the door, only to find his way blocked by the pink-haired renter of said door.

"Don't even think about it." Sakura's brow furrowed. "You promised."

He sighed and followed her into the kitchen, where she tossed him a sponge. "You can get started here, while I clear up the dishes." Kakashi looked around at the messy state of the kitchen. Ino certainly could cook, but apparently she had no concept of "clean up as you go.". The room was a pig sty. Batter had burnt onto the griddle, spilled onto the counter and dripped down the cabinet doors and frames. The floor, he noticed, was sticky with some unnamed substance, as well. Luckily, it was a small room, so the agent of entropy that was Yamanaka Ino had limited its devastation to a few square meters. He scrubbed the counters and cabinets clean as Sakura set to work on the dishes.

"This is what you and Ino were giggling about, isn't it?" He was called a genius for a reason, after all.

"She just pointed out that you hadn't earned your drink or dinner, that's all, and suggested you help out a bit. She certainly didn't plan this-- she's always this messy. Goes with the creativity, I guess."

"Do you have a mop?"

She looked at him sheepishly.

"Some paper towels, then?"

She shook her head. "How about some paper napkins?" She ran into the living room to retrieve the pile that sat atop an unopened box.

"You're really not the homemaker type, are you?"

Sakura shrugged at this assault on her femininity. "This is my first apartment. How was I supposed to know that I'd need all these things?"

"Probably by helping out around your parents' house. Didn't your mom teach you how to cook and clean?"

"I had better things to do, as you well know. Plus, I figured that if did learn how to cook, you, Naruto and Sai would take advantage."

"Good point." He wet the napkins down with soapy water from the sink, then knelt to scrub the floor.

"You really don't have to do that, Kakashi-sensei."

"Don't call me that." He paused in his scrubbing, looking up to lock his eye on hers. "I think we both know I don't deserve that title." Kakashi the observer was a bit surprised by the shocked look elicited by this comment, almost as surprised as he was at himself for uttering such honest words. The fact that he was kneeling as he spoke them seemed to make things even worse, in his view. It was almost as though he was supplicating her.

"Things turned out for the best, Kakashi," she said finally. "They always do. Get up and help me finish these dishes."

The observer saw something in her eyes, then, something he'd seen on a few previous occasions, though it had never been directed at him before. It was a look of understanding, and forgiveness, he realized. But that was Sakura. She had a huge capacity for empathy, a characteristic held in common by the best medics. No wonder she'd gone so far in her career.

She hadn't hated him at this moment in time, but that didn't surprise him. It must have been something that happened during or subsequent to their sexual encounter. Kakashi turned his attention back to the kitchen, and the scene taking place there.

They stood side by side for a while, in comfortable silence, as the kunoichi washed and the copy ninja dried. The observer wished things would move along a bit faster. This was like watching paint dry. But the participant seemed to be savoring this time.

"Ready for the griddle?" he heard himself say. He detached its power cord and carried the heavy, iron cooking surface to the sink. Then the greasy appliance slipped from his hands, into the soapy water. The resultant splash fully drenched Sakura's front.

"Shit! Baka! Baka no sensei!"

"Gomen!"

She turned towards him, a study in fury. Her knit shirt was completely soaked, he noticed, and the bra she wore under the now translucent garment was black. Satin, probably. Nice. He'd had dreams like this, he realized, although not about her. She was nicely endowed, he saw, not to an extreme, like Tsunade, but quite enough to make his eyes linger. He'd never really noticed before. His eye remained locked on her chest, appreciating her attributes, until she ran from the room.

He heard her wrenching aside the mattress lodged in the hallway outside her bedroom, then he heard her shriek.

He entered the living room to see Sakura face down on the carpet, head hidden by her hands. She was shaking violently. Kakashi dropped to her side, suddenly filled with concern.

"Sakura?"

She didn't answer, but the shaking abated after a minute or two. She lifted her reddened face then, and choked out a few words.

"They were—Choji and Shikamaru-- oh!" She started laughing again, collapsing to the floor. "I swear—the image is burned into my brain!"

The sight of two-thirds of the former team ten, _in flagrante delicto_ had a profound effect on the kunoichi, it seemed. A good ten minutes passed, during which time Sakura tried unsuccessfully to control the mirth she felt. Tears streamed down her face as she bit her lip and took deep breaths.

"So." Kakashi's voice was dry. "I thought you'd seen everything."

"Hmm?"

"With Izumo and Kotetsu, that is."

"No. No. Just kisses when they thought no one was looking. And footsie under the table. Never—" She lost control again, and leaned against the older jounin as she shook with laughter.

"And to make things worse, all of my clothes are in there. That's what I get for being organized." She looked down at her still-wet jersey shirt, and Kakashi was sure a blush would have crept into her cheeks had they not already been a shade of deep crimson. She was not as red as Hinata had been that evening, but she came close. "If I were Ino, I would have just thrown everything into a couple of garbage bags, tossed them into the living room, and called it good."

"But, thankfully, you're _not_ Ino." It would have been unbearable to have had another blonde, obnoxious student. Kakashi took off his vest and removed the stretchy, long-sleeved shirt he typically wore, revealing the thin, mesh undershirt underneath. He tossed the dark outer garment to Sakura. "You can wear this until they clear out. Did they realize that you saw them?"

"No. They were… umm… busy. Thanks." She made a beeline to the bathroom, and returned minutes later, clad in the copy-ninja's shirt. She'd removed her skirt, he noticed. It had been soaked as well. His shirt was large enough for her to wear as a dress, however, so she was in no way immodestly attired. His shirt looked quite nice on her, he thought, its thin fabric molding precisely to her breasts and the curve of her hips. Well, maybe it wasn't quite that modest. She wasn't wearing her bra, he noticed, but that made sense, as it was likely soaked through. Again, he found it hard to look away.

"You can finish the dishes while I start to unpack in here." She slid a box toward her and ripped off the tape sealing it shut, as Kakashi left to finish cleaning up the former disaster area. He returned to see her pull an heirloom go board from the bottom of a box. She set the heavy, footed board on the ground and carefully unwrapped two matching, lidded bowls filled with black slate and mother of pearl stones.

"I didn't know you played."

"Since I was four. Bet I could kick your ass, Kakashi."

"I seriously doubt that. Care to make a little wager?" He handed her one of the two beers he held, neglecting to tell her he'd been playing since the tender age of two.

"Like what?"

"What would make it interesting to you?"

"Well, I'd really like to see your face."

He considered for a moment. Of course she'd ask that—old habits died hard. "That seems fair. Of course, you're not going to win, so really you could ask me for anything, and I'd agree."

Sakura's eyes narrowed as he continued. "When I win, I'd like to know exactly how Naruto embarrassed himself while drinking. You alluded to it earlier."

"I promised I wouldn't tell." She smiled devilishly. "But I'm not going to lose to you, so fine. I'll wager that. But we should make things a little more interesting."

"How so?"

She rose from the floor and picked up a bottle of sake from the place on the couch where it had been unceremoniously laid. "For every stone I capture, you take a shot." She pulled out two wooden cups from a gift bag that lay nearby. "These came with the set Ino gave me. Nice, huh?"

"The same holds true for you?"

"Theoretically. But you won't take a single stone from me."

"Big words from such a petite woman."

"Looks can be deceiving. Shall we begin?"

They played quietly for a while, each anticipating the other's moves while setting up territories. After a while, it became clear that they were evenly matched. Neither placed stones randomly—each was intent on setting up a strategic advantage. The first stone, however, was taken from Kakashi. He very willingly filled up the squared-off wooden sake cup with the peach-infused sake Sakura had mentioned earlier.

"Kanpai, Kakashi!"

He obliged, emptying the cup in one swallow, though not while she was watching.

"You should know that I have a very high tolerance for alcohol. This isn't likely to affect my cognitive abilities." He lay down a stone in an attempt to merge two territories in one, and looked up to see Sakura grinning victoriously.

"You've spread yourself too thin. This territory will be mine in the next five moves." She pointed to the farthest quadrant of the board.

"Don't be so sure about that." He placed his next few stones in a pattern Sakura had never observed before. As the game progressed, Sakura realized the advantage had indeed switched. Kakashi captured stone after stone, often several at once. She did her best to both defend and attack. Despite this, the peach-flavored sake was soon consumed. The next, larger bottle was opened, and the battle continued.

Now it was Kakashi's turn to defend. His cup was filled time after time.

_This explains the black out_, his observer half thought. _A bottle of sho-chu at the bar, four beers and another bottle and a half of sake here. Of course you wouldn't remember a thing._

Sakura, he noticed, was extremely drunk as well, her eyes half closed and her lips fixed into a classic, inebriated smile.

"Last one," she said as she opened the bottle Shizune had brought. "What will we do if we run out?"

"I'm sure we'll think of something." Both Kakashi the participant and the observer took in the sight of her, legs folded under her, fingers playing in her hair. She pulled her mouth into an innocent, yet ever so sexy pout as she considered her next move. Her eyes glimmered for a moment, though she did her best to keep a poker face. Apparently alcohol didn't affect her reasoning capacity either. It was clear that she'd come up with a new strategy.

He studied the board, eager to figure out what she was planning. He hadn't played go with such a well-matched opponent in years, not since he'd played his own sensei. The part of Kakashi observing the match thought back to the many times he'd seen Shikamaru and Asuma playing shoji together. Although Asuma often did so in an attempt to study Shikamaru's intellect, Kakashi knew that the older jounin had truly enjoyed squaring off against his pupil, despite the clear mismatch.

Kakashi wondered why he had never considered training Sakura in strategy. He did know a thing or two about it, after all. It was another indication, he realized, of how miserably he had failed her.

His participant half, however, was thinking quite different thoughts. The inner voice that constantly told him that he was unworthy was muted, and he was well past the point where he was able to reflect. That much alcohol, thankfully, had a tendency to quash that ability. But his ability to appreciate a woman remained intact. She really was something else, he thought as he raised his gaze to admire her. She was both frighteningly strong and frighteningly intelligent. On top of that, she'd somehow metamorphosed into a beautiful, no, enchantingly beautiful woman. He felt sorry for her for a moment. She'd have a hard time finding a partner: most men would be intimidated by her. Kakashi had no idea, however, if that was even what she wanted out of life. Years ago he would have thought so. But after Sasuke left, she'd changed. Perhaps this was due to the loss of the Uchiha, or perhaps it was due to Tsunade's influence, but either way, she'd become much more independent. It was clear she no longer needed to devote herself to another. He realized that this made her even more attractive to him.

She noticed him looking at him. Their eyes locked for a moment, and she blushed. Now she looked even more enticing, virginal and ever so innocent…

"It's your move. Or do you concede? I believe I'm ahead by twenty points." It was clear she was unaware of her effect on him. But she had blushed. Why?

"It's not nice to gloat, Sakura. And besides that, it's much too early." He placed his next stone in another unusual location. Then he noticed that she was looking at him, with the same look in her eyes that he'd seen before. He'd interpreted it earlier as something akin to forgiveness and understanding. Compassion, perhaps. Now he was not so sure.

"No. It's late," she said quietly. "It's tomorrow, actually—my birthday. Do you think they've left yet?"

"One way to find out." He stood quite steadily for a man who'd consumed a great deal of alcohol, but he rarely displayed any outward signs of intoxication. After a hard earned visit to the bathroom, the copy ninja pulled the mattress wedged into the hall out of his way, then knocked loudly, before opening the door to Sakura's near-empty bedroom. The window, the two jounins' obvious method of egress was open, and the cold night air had chilled the room. The pair had given up on the bedframe, he noticed. Its parts lay propped against the far wall. Kakashi returned to the living room and addressed Sakura.

"Shall I help you move your bed?"

"Sure. That would be great." Together they hauled the large mattress into the room, dropping it close to the center of the space.

"Well." He scratched the place at the base of his head where the knot of his hitae-ate dug into his scalp. "I guess I should be going. Shall we continue our game some other time?"

She nodded vaguely, gazing at him intently, her lips slightly parted, cheeks pink.

"I didn't bring you a birthday gift." He scratched his head. "Actually, I had no idea…"

"It's okay. I didn't expect one." Her statement held no accusatory tone, he realized. It was just a simple statement of fact. Sakura seemed to have accepted him at face value. This was something new to him-- few others had ever done so.

"Close your eyes." She looked at him questioningly before complying.

He slid down his mask, and gently pressed his lips to hers. He meant for it to be chaste (at least that was what he told himself), but it quickly evolved into something quite different.

She stood frozen for quite a few seconds, then slowly melted into the kiss, raising her arms to embrace him, and trailing one hand through his hair. He deepened the kiss, and she readily parted her lips when he sought entrance. _She tastes like peaches_, he thought.

She was perfectly ripe, he realized, like a soft, yet yielding fruit just waiting to be plucked from the tree. He realized he wanted desperately to touch her, to taste her soft flesh and mark her as his own. He broke the kiss and pulled his mask up, then stroked her cheek.

"You can open your eyes now."

She slowly ended their embrace. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused, as though her thoughts were somewhere else. She touched her finger to her lips and Kakashi realized the self control he'd thought he'd be able to muster would not be forthcoming. He crushed her to him, his voice a throaty whisper in her ear.

"I want you. Does that scare you, Sakura?"

She shook her head slowly.

"Will you let me make love to you?"

She nodded, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks.

"I'm not going to seduce you. I want you to want this."

Her voice was nearly inaudible. "I do."

He walked to the window, closed it and drew the blind. "Take off your clothes for me."

It didn't take long, as she hadn't been wearing much. She stood before him, completely naked, the chill air causing her rosy nipples to stand erect. He'd expected her to cover herself. She'd always been a modest girl. But either she'd changed, or the alcohol had affected her, as well. She seemed totally uninhibited, and comfortable in her nudity.

"Cold?"

She nodded, and he moved towards her, quickly bridging the small distance between him. He felt her begin to warm under his touch. He caressed her lightly, his fingers like feathers against her velvet skin. She shuddered.

_I need to taste her_, he thought.

He removed his hitae-ate and held it out to her. "If you'd won our little wager, I'd let you see my face. But since you haven't…" She pouted, clearly disappointed as she tied the headband to cover her eyes, and the innocent sensuality of this gesture was almost enough to make him relent. Almost. "Maybe next time, " he consoled her, "assuming you win, that is."

He touched her again. However, this time his tracings were followed by the soft wetness of the tip of his tongue. He heard her gasp, then sigh softly. He wanted her desperately, he realized, but did his best to draw things out. Anticipation would make the reward that much sweeter, after all. He gently lowered her to the unclothed mattress, kissing her as he did so.

He very much liked the situation they were in. Blindfolded, Sakura had no idea where he would touch or kiss her next, and her facial expressions and utterances of surprise were exquisite. He liked the thought of being in control of her body, of her pleasure. He slid his hand over her hips, brushing them against her thighs, and smiled as she immediately blushed. She didn't resist him, however as he parted them, though she did cry out when she felt his fingers slide within her folds of her sex.

"Shall I stop, Sakura?" It was an empty question. There was no way he'd be able to stop now.

"No. No. You just surprised me, that's all."

He began to caress her, smiling as she immediately responded. She was as passionate here as she was in daily life, it seemed. What a wonderful lover she'd make. He lowered his head and caressed her thighs with gentle kisses. She gasped as he moved upwards, involuntarily locking her thighs against his head.

"What… what are you doing?"

He chuckled as he gently, but firmly pressed her legs apart. "I'm tasting you."

"But—"

"You said you wanted me to make love to you. This is a prelude to that. Relax. I promise you'll enjoy it."

He felt her body relax a bit, although not completely, as he spread her folds apart and flickered his tongue across the apex of her sex. He slid a finger within her as he did so, meeting the resistance he'd fully expected to find. He was thrilled to be her first, he realized, thrilled by the idea of bringing her a pleasure she'd never felt before, and filled with the possessiveness of an explorer charting new territory.

She climaxed almost immediately, and violently. As her body's involuntary movements subsided, he lifted his head to look at her face. Even with her eyes covered, it was clear she was shocked by her body's reaction.

"Did you like that?" There was just a trace of smugness in his voice.

"Y-yes. Wow."

"Don't tell me you've never had an orgasm before, Sakura." She shook her head, blushing profusely.

"You've never masturbated?" He couldn't resist asking. Her face turned beet-red in mere milliseconds.

"No!" This was more like the innocent, slightly prudish kunoichi he'd briefly trained.

"You should. You'd like it." He turned his attentions to her body again, moving his fingers deftly against her, slowly this time. She moaned as he did so, clearly enjoying his caresses. He slid a finger inside of her again, then two, rhythmically moving them in time, pressing against the place he knew would bring her a deeper orgasm. She cried out again, bucking against his hand. The way she said his name was enthralling, he realized.

"Do you want more, Sakura?" _He_ certainly did.

"Show me how to please you." She sat up, and attempted to rise to her knees. "Let me do to you what you just did to me."

Kakashi slowly undressed, rising to his feet as he did so, and stepping off the plain, white mattress. "I wasn't expecting this," he said softly.

He guided her hand to his fully engorged member and gasped slightly as her fingers glided along his length.

"Show me what to do."

"I don't think I need to." He felt her tongue flicker against the sensitive tip of his sex and groaned, then hissed as he felt her envelop him with her warm, wet mouth. She slid along him, moving slightly faster when he directed her to do so, slowing down intermittently at his command. He was in heaven, he thought. He had to be in heaven, or at least the vicinity. He was so close—

"Stop. Now."

She moved away from him, surprise writ on her face at the urgent, sharp quality to his voice.

"Did I do something wrong? I'm so sorry—"

Kakashi chuckled as he knelt next to her and gently pushed her back against the mattress. "You didn't do anything wrong. In fact, it was perfect. But I'd like to do something that will bring us both pleasure." He kissed her slowly and luxuriously. "Will you let me make love to you, Sakura?"

She nodded, but he felt her trepidation.

"Don't be scared. You trust me, don't you?"

She nodded, vigorously this time. "More than anything."

He sighed as he caressed her again, losing himself in the touch of her skin. He pressed his lips to her flesh, tracing a line along her pulse and down to her collarbone. He shifted his attention to her perfect breasts, fondling one firm half-globe while he nipped and sucked at the other. She moaned and shifted under him, pulling him away from her flesh so that she could assault his mouth with her own.

Her kisses were lust-filled and more self-assured than he might have expected. It was clear that she wanted him, and he knew he couldn't wait any longer. He pressed against her entrance, then quickly thrust into her, and felt her muscles clamp down on him as she cried out in pain. He didn't move—it would be better to let her ride out the single pain produced by this sharp movement rather than add to it. Even without seeing her eyes he could read her face. The teeth pressed tightly against her lower lip suggested she was doing her best not to cry.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, then kissed her slowly as he waited for her pain to abate. But he wasn't, really. He'd wanted her virginity, and he'd had it. And he wanted more. He slid his hand down her torso, to the warm, wet area between her legs, and quickly found the bundle of nerves that would make this experience pleasurable for her. He caressed her slowly at first, noticing how body first relaxed, then began to tense in bliss. He moved inside of her then, and she cried out again. But not in pain, this time. This cry was quite different. She moaned his name, urged him to move faster. He kindly obliged, his movements sending her over the edge once again. He paused then, waiting for her to regain her senses, and pulled the hitae-ate from her face.

He could see disappointment on her face again. His mask was back in place.

"I want to watch you come, Sakura. Ride me." With a quick motion he flipped them so that she was superior.

She complied, tentatively at first as he guided her motions, then with the authority and passion he'd seen her display in other arenas. She threw her head back as she fell into a rhythm, maintaining her balance by grasping his hands in her own, and seemed lost to the world for a while as her passion totally consumed her. She was beautiful. And for the moment, she was all his. He exploded within her in a white-hot rush, then pulled her against him.

They lay together as their breathing steadied and the overdose of alcohol lulled each of them to sleep. She kissed him again, a soft touch on his fabric-clad neck, and murmured something he almost didn't catch.

"I think I'm in love with you, Kakashi."

The image went black then, and Kakashi realized that this must have been where he'd lost consciousness. It didn't matter, however. He knew what happened next. He'd woken up to bright light and a raging headache to find his limbs intertwined with those of the sleeping Sakura. A completely naked Sakura. He'd wondered exactly what had happened as he skillfully detached himself from their full-body embrace. As he did so, he saw a pinkish brown stain on the mattress. It told him all he needed to know about the night before.

_What kind of person deflowers his former student?_ he wondered. He was disgusted with himself, and alarmed as he realized he had absolutely no memory of the night before. Nothing was coming back to him, not even fragments of the night they'd spent together. Had he raped her? No, that couldn't be. She wouldn't have been lying in his arms if that had occurred. She'd consented, he surmised. Somehow, this didn't make him feel better. He'd grabbed his clothes and dressed hurriedly, realizing as he left the room, that she was awake and watching him. He didn't turn around, however. He had absolutely no idea what he should say to her.

"This is why she hates you," the detached half of him said. "This is why she didn't tell you."

The jutsu faded and Kakashi took in his environment. Four a.m., his alarm clock read-- long past closing time. There was no point in getting up to look in his cupboards for the dregs of alcohol he might find in some long-forgotten bottle. He preferred not to drink at home, and when he did, he cleaned up immediately after. There was no point in getting drunk now, anyway. Knowing what had happened between them wasn't something he wanted immediately to forget, and he was due to train Tsuki in just a few hours. He stretched out on his bed, images of a passionate Sakura cascading through his mind.

He needed to apologize to her, he realized. But first, he'd have to find a way to get her to listen to him.

He decided he was up for the challenge.


	6. Chapter 6 Go

_Disclaimer: Naruto and associated characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto. They are not my property!_

**A Book of Five Rings—Go Rin No Sho **

**Chapter 6: Go**

She'd only cried once in the past five years. She hadn't done so days ago, when she'd learned of her parents' death, nor at their funeral. The only time she'd wept in recent memory was when she'd learned of Yuki's death. But that had been over four years ago, and only for a few short minutes. She hadn't shed a tear since then. When she'd left Konoha, she'd become a different person—someone in tight control of her emotions, as a shinobi should be. The transformation hadn't been something she had intended or had fought for, but she'd been pleased when she realized that she was no longer an open book. She'd hated that aspect of herself.

But the control she'd been so proud of had completely vanished, she thought as she wiped tears of frustration from her face. That man. In her bedroom. Who did he think he was?

_The father of your child, that's who._

But he wasn't-- not in any way that counted. He was merely a sperm donor, and she, the unlucky recipient. Sakura wished fervently, and not for the first time, that it could have been anyone else that night. The thought shamed her, though, as it always did. Tsuki wouldn't be who he was were his father anyone else—in fact, Tsuki wouldn't exist at all, if she and Kakashi had not spent those hours together.

Sakura remembered the events of that night in vivid detail, despite the fact that she'd been completely inebriated almost from the get go. Over the intervening years, she'd learned that alcohol had little effect on her cognitive capabilities. It lowered her inhibitions and made her much more likely to laugh—a fact that Yuki had often taken advantage of—but other than that, a Sakura under the influence was not much different from a sober Sakura. A little bit more mellow, perhaps, but that was all. Even if she wanted to drink enough to forget, she seemed to be unable to do so. And for an event as life-changing as her eighteenth birthday had been, there seemed no way that her mind would let her forget even the smallest detail. Sakura mulled over these events now, as she lay in the bed the copy ninja had just invaded, as though he had every right to do so.

She had known she had feelings for Kakashi, but had realized neither their depth nor their nature until she surprised herself by telling him she might be falling in love with him. Perhaps her subconscious had been protecting her until then. She had done her best to stay clear of him until that evening, although she never had a good understanding of exactly why she chose to avoid him. It just seemed, instinctively, to be the right thing to do. After Sasuke, her analytical, logical mind had concluded that forming a romantic attachment to one's teammates was one of the most stupid things a ninja could do. Such a relationship couldn't result in anything positive. Too much was at stake. Even platonic attachments seemed risky. Naruto was the exception to this, of course, as there was no way he'd let her push him out of her life, but for everyone else, she'd firmly closed the door. But Kakashi had fallen into neither of these categories. He had been her teacher, not her friend, and she'd never given a thought to the idea of him as a boyfriend. Yes, he was gorgeous. As she'd gotten older it became difficult to deny how handsome he was, even for a shinobi, even without ever having seen his face. But it wasn't an attraction _she'd_ ever act on, and there was no danger of being swept off her feet by the man. It was well known that he was a bit of a player—he'd never be interested in someone like her. It was ridiculous to even consider it, so she hadn't. A fear of relationships, therefore, did not explain why she avoided him. It seemed to have more to do with self-preservation.

She'd realized with dismay, years before, that even her friendship didn't seem of value to the aloof copy ninja. Not as much as her wallet, anyway, which was typically much lighter following the rare occasions she did spend time with him. The limited conversations they had were almost completely one sided, consisting, on his part, of absent-minded and noncommittal grunts. It was clear he didn't get much out of any time they spent together, so what was the point of even trying, of putting herself on the line,friendship-wise? The ever-optimistic, tenacious Haruno girl had given up on him, and their lack of a friendship had become another exhibit in the case she'd built for isolating herself. She was happy, she told herself, that their interaction was limited to a wave from across the street, or a half smile and requisite "How have you been?" when their carts collided in a crowded supermarket.

A deeper, less accessible part of her felt differently about the copy ninja, however. The healer in Sakura had seen something in him, something she desperately wanted to fix. In the field, on rare occasions, she'd glimpsed his human side. This had occurred from the very beginning, from his initial vow to protect all of Team Seven with his life, and the concern he'd shown her at her first chunnin exams, to other, subtle interactions between himself and the reconstituted Team Kakashi. There was something worth loving there, she'd realized unconsciously, something special, pure and noble. More importantly, he needed healing—he needed unconditional love. Every now and then she'd seen a flash of pain in his eyes—pain that was easy to recognize as the form caused by loss. She'd heard bits and pieces about his past from others, although she never asked. When people learned she'd been his student, they were typically quite frank, volunteering stories that bordered, she thought, on the mythical. She'd woven the common truths of these fragmented stories into what she thought was an unembellished whole. Kakashi been orphaned—most of the stories mentioned this. It was also clear that his father had committed suicide and his mother had died soon after, most likely from liver disease. She'd drunk herself to death, apparently. He'd lost his team and his sensei, one after the other, she'd heard, although she'd heard few specifics of those events. The details weren't important, though-- the look of unabated grief she saw in rare, unguarded moments had told the healer within her all she needed to know. It had tugged at her.

And so, though she kept her distance for reasons she didn't understand, Sakura had maintained an attachment to her former sensei. But she hadn't realized just how attached she had become.

Her parents had known she was bound for the medical profession from the time she was four. They'd told her this repeatedly—first as they'd tried unsuccessfully to dissuade the kunoichi-to-be from entering the academy, and later, with pride, when she'd announced to them that she had been accepted as the hokage's apprentice. They'd known she'd be a medic, they'd said, from the strange assortment of wounded animals she'd taken in, starting at a very young age. As a four year old, she'd pulled a rock dove from the jaws of an angry akita, then begged her father to build a cage to hold the frightened creature while it recuperated. It died within days, which hadn't surprised her parents, but this hadn't deterred the young Sakura. This _had_ surprised them. She'd faced the reality of her patient's death with equanimity and a fierce determination to do better the next time. Next, she'd nursed a cat hit by a passing wagon, fashioning a splint to hold its leg in position as it healed. The cat had limped for the rest of his life, but he'd survived, due to their daughter's ministrations. A parade of other injured animals soon followed.

Then her biggest project had come along—a wreck of a boy named Sasuke. He taught her all she would know about romantic love. Unfortunately, Sakura learned loving Sasuke was all about giving—about _her_ giving, that is-- and she had inferred from this that all love was one-sided. She hadn't realized that unrequited love was barely worth owning, though she certainly learned that it hurt.

Her subconscious, therefore, had acted wisely in keeping her away from the copy ninja, and in keeping her feelings well hidden from her conscious self. But neither of these selves (nor the id-like inner Sakura) had expected to see him on moving day, and she'd been surprised, though pleasantly so to find him seated on her couch unwrapping dishes, hentai novel nowhere to be seen. The several hours they spent that evening, drinking and talking had told her more about him than she'd ever known before, and she felt herself opening up to him, and to herself.

Then he kissed her, and she fell apart.

This was something she could give to him, she'd thought cloudily, as she lost herself in his kiss, something that might help his pain. She'd wanted so much to love him, to allow him to feel cherished. And, despite her experience with Sasuke, a very small part of her thought that Kakashi just might cherish her in return.

She'd willingly given herself to him. The fact that she was intoxicated at the time had little to do with her decision, she'd realized later, though it certainly had made it easier. It made her less self-conscious, allowing her to share herself unreservedly, and it numbed her, a bit, to the physical pain of their initial encounter. It also loosened her tongue, although it was clear from his expression that he didn't hear her post-coital epiphany.

She'd been crushed upon waking up to see the expression of loathing and contempt on Kakashi's otherwise handsome profile. He was so disgusted that not only was he silent, as he quickly and haphazardly dressed in his wrinkled clothes from the night before, but he didn't even look at her, though it was clear he'd realized that she was awake. She'd been mortified, but that was only the beginning.

She waited several days, hoping he might come by to talk things through, if nothing else. He owed her an apology at the very least, and an opportunity for her to save face. The go board still set up on her living room floor mocked her each time she stepped over it, placed, as it was in the path to the front door. Its black and white stones were a representation of the contrast between the passion of the night they'd spent together and the coldness she felt now. He'd mentioned something about completing the game, something about letting her see beneath the mask next time, assuming she won. It had been idle talk, she slowly realized. Still, she didn't put the board away, some small part of her still hopeful.

She saw him in the street several times, his face buried in a book, as usual, but on these occasions, he didn't look up as he typically did, crinkle his eye into a smile, or send a lazy half-wave her way. He simply pretended she wasn't there. Sakura, for all her continuing insecurity concerning romantic matters did not pursue him, the way she'd pursued Sasuke years before. He needed time, she thought. The team leader she knew was not a coward. Eventually, he'd put things right.

Her annual exam came two weeks later, tacked on to the end of a twelve-hour workday, replete with two surgeries and one drawn-out administrative meeting about the request Waterfall had made for training in medical jutsu. Sakura had been puzzled to be invited to the meeting, as she was the least senior medical specialist on staff, and she had been eager for the meeting to be over, as it was long past dark when the meeting began. She and Tsunade had both been tired, therefore, by the end of this long day, but Tsunade had been adamant that they get the exam out of the way. She was efficient and quick, as a physical for someone in Sakura's prime condition was unlikely to uncover any problems. Tsunade had just begun Sakura's pelvic exam when she looked at the younger kunoichi in surprise. She then picked up Sakura's chart and flipped through it, brow wrinkled.

'You did get all of your shots last year, didn't you?'

'Yes, Shishou. Of course.'

Tsunade moved her finger down the page, to rest on a clearly written date. 'Yes. I can see that.' She'd paused then, as though trying to find just the right words. 'Sakura. When did you become sexually active? Last year, you were still…'

'Shishou?' Why would the hokage care about something like that, she'd wondered. She was a kunoichi, after all. It was expected that she'd spend at least part of one mission on her back, at some point in her career. It was therefore suggested, not verbally, but definitely in other ways, that a kunoichi gain sexual experience early on—the sooner the better. So why the sudden concern?

'I don't understand this.' Tsunade had flipped through the chart again, then briefly left the room, returning with a large, bound volume.

'Shishou?' The older woman sat down next to her protégé, concern still apparent in her youthful features.

'You had your annual birth control injection. The next one's not due for another month. But… I'm almost positive that you're pregnant, Sakura.'

'What?!'

'It's early. I can barely feel its chakra signature, but it's there. If you don't mind…' She paged through the book until she found what Sakura recognized to be a chakra-enhancing medical jutsu. 'Place your hand over mine,' Tsunade said after she'd scanned through the text and quickly formed several seals. 'Can you feel it?'

She could. It was just a tiny, glowing ball of energy she felt, but it was distinct from her own chakra. She blinked back tears of shock and fear as her mentor and second mother spoke gently.

'You know who the father is, don't you?' Sakura nodded furiously. Of course she knew who the father was. She wasn't some slut who spread her legs for every-- 'Is he shinobi?' She didn't respond, but the rigidity of her body language seemed to confirm things for the hokage.

Her mentor sighed, then hugged Sakura. 'This isn't your fault, you know. I'll support you however I can. You have…options. Do you have any idea of what you'll do?'

She shook her head. Obviously, this was not her decision to make alone.

She headed out blindly, as captive to her emotions as she'd ever been, and quickly found herself outside the rundown apartment building that was home to her former teacher. She climbed several flights of stairs, then took a deep breath and rapped at his door with more confidence than she felt.

He came to the door the third time she knocked. Kakashi was wearing a thin, aizome-dyed yukata—too thin, in fact for the cold, April weather. It was cinched loosely at his waist, and hung open to reveal his sculpted chest and abdomen. Even slouched in his doorframe he was been a sight to behold. His, hair, unbound by its usual hitae-ate, fell in an unruly silver cascade that covered his Sharingan eye. Sakura felt something stir within her, the same something she'd felt when he'd touched her, weeks before.

She saw a look of surprise in his eye, but it disappeared quickly, replaced by another emotion she couldn't quite place. Annoyance? She couldn't read him, but that was no different than usual. He was wearing his mask, of course. She focused on the cloth of his robe as she screwed up the courage to speak. It was kasuri-patterned, a double ikat. Some weaver had gone to painstaking lengths to plan out the pattern of dyeing needed to turn the plain cotton threads of the both the warp and weft into a woven picture of small, cross-like shuriken.

'Sakura?'

'I need to talk to you,' she finally stammered foolishly, then blushed. Of course she needed to talk to him. Why else would she be standing on his doorstep this late at night?

Something resembling embarrassment flitted briefly across his uncovered eye, as he raised a hand to scratch a familiar place at the nape of his neck. 'Now is not such a good—'

'Kakashi! Come back. We're waiting for you!'

_We?_ Had someone just said, "we"? The blush on Sakura's cheeks deepened, and she bit her lip as Kakashi stepped into the apartment for a moment, half-closing the door behind him. His voice was nearly inaudible as he addressed the other occupants of the apartment. Theirs, however, were not.

'I hear you're good with a katana,' Sakura heard one say.

There was laughter, then, both male and female, before the Sharingan user opened the door again. He stepped outside onto narrow concrete walkway that fronted his apartment, pulling the door shut behind him, and folding his arms against him, as though to ward off the cold, or the unwanted attentions of eighteen-year-old kunoichi.

'I think I know why you're here.' Her eyes had widened at his words, and she gulped as he leaned toward her, voice soft. Could he tell? Even Tsunade had been unsure, and she'd had no idea of it herself. 'I should have come to talk to you. But…' He left the sentence incomplete, and Sakura sighed as she detected the pungent odor of shochu on his breath. His eyes were glazed over, too, she'd noticed. There was something else, as well-- the musky, unmistakable smell of sex. No wonder he seemed so relaxed.

'You need to know that this—us—' he waved his hand between them, 'was a mistake. I'm sorry. But…' Again, his voice trailed off.

'Kakashi, you don't understand. I'm--'

The door had opened then, and a woman Sakura recognized as a barmaid from one of the more frequented taverns interrupted them. She was clad in a jounin uniform shirt, her long legs bare, lips pouting, her long, wheaten hair tousled into luxuriant curls. Sakura noticed Kakashi's hitae-ate tied loosely around her neck.

'You don't want us to go on without you, do you? Kaeda is secured, just as you ordered.' She waved a scarf as she giggled. 'I assume it will be my turn, after that? What's in those soldier pills, anyway?'

'I said I'd only be a moment. Wait for me inside.' His voice was a growl, and his drunken companion quickly complied with his request.

'Sakura. It was a mistake. That's all. The sooner you forget it happened, the better.' Without waiting for a reply, he turned and shut the door firmly behind him, leaving her standing on the narrow walkway, mouth agape, unshed tears impairing her vision.

She cried for hours. She didn't return home, preferring to walk in the cold, despite the damp wind that picked up as the evening progressed. The tears changed as the night wore on, from unhappy, to wounded, to bitterly furious. Walking should have burned off some steam, but Sakura found that the more she walked the angrier she became. At four she turned in, exhaustedly pushing open her apartment door, then tripping over the heavy go board. She rose to her knees and stared at the heirloom, its stones askew but still mocking her. Then she raised her fist and crushed the thick, dense object as she cried out in rage.

Hours later, she convinced Tsunade that she was the best person to send to Waterfall. She was packed and ready to go the next day.

Almost five years later, Sakura lay in a bed in the city she had forsaken, and wondered if she'd done the right thing in returning home. She hadn't expected the man she most despised would become a part of her life again, if only through her son. It was clear Kakashi hadn't changed. The way he looked the day she'd run into him. And the way he'd smelled… Would it harm Tsuki to be around such an example of moral decay, even if he had no idea the man was his father? No, she told herself, Kakashi would keep his other self hidden. As a student, she and her teammates had no idea of how he spent his free time. He was highly skilled at compartmentalizing things. He wouldn't knowingly corrupt her son. Kakashi had let her down—as a teacher, as a friend, and then, briefly, as a lover, but Sakura was sure that the shinobi within was still an honorable man. She was sure he wouldn't tell Tsuki of his paternity, not even if the boy asked him point blank.

And Tsunade trusted, him, apparently. Sakura knew her to be a good judge of character, in every arena outside of gambling, anyway. If she felt Kakashi was the right man for the job, then he must be. But that didn't mean he could have carte blanche with her son. Sakura smiled through her tears as she realized she did have a slight bit of control of the situation. She would lay down parameters the next time she saw him, to ensure that the man her son interacted with would display only the most upright character. She laughed aloud. Kakashi would have a very hard time parting with his Icha, Icha collection.

…o…o…o…o…

"Sensei, why does my mom hate you?"

"Hmm?" Kakashi and Tsuki lay sprawled under an oak tree on the verge of leafing out. The woods surrounding the training field were already beginning to take on the deep green color they wore in spring and early summer. Although the trees were still bare, fiddleheads of new fern growth were steadily pushing up through the duff, and crocuses had long since emerged and bloomed. The thick sphagnum moss cushion beneath them had grown greener, as well, the pungent fragrance of its new growth a true harbinger of the coming season.

"She doesn't like you. I was wondering why. She's always nice to people." Tsuki reached to pull a leaf from a rattlesnake plantain, and worked the evergreen leaf between his fingers until its layers separated. He then inflated it, as his mother had shown him, and batted the tiny balloon from hand to hand.

"Did you know I was your mom's teacher a long time ago?"

Tsuki looked at his mentor curiously. "Tsunade-obaa-sama was her teacher."

"She lets you call her that?" Kakashi chuckled, as he thought of Naruto and Tsunade's strange interaction where that term was concerned.

"She said she's my third grandmother. When did you teach Mom?"

"When she was twelve, but not for long. Konoha was attacked, and things were… reorganized. One of your mom's teammates betrayed Konoha, and the other's life was in constant danger. He was too valuable to the village-- things couldn't stay the way they'd been."

"Does she hate you for that?"

"What makes you think she hates me?"

"She yelled at me last night when I asked if you could stay for dinner." The boy's face saddened. "She never yells. Never. Her body got stiff when I talked about you later, and her face kind of froze. I'm not stupid, you know."

"I don't think anyone would ever accuse you of that, Tsuki." He ruffled the boy's hair, then reached for his book, belatedly remembering Tsunade's warning. The boy had shown a bit too much interest in it the day before. While it might be a case of "like father, like son," Kakashi was not about to risk losing this mentorship because of a simple obsession, and even he realized his son was much too young to introduce to this particular brand of literature. He quickly replaced the slim volume in his kunai pouch and leaned over to rummage in his backpack, instead.

"Let's get back to training." Kakashi stretched as he pulled himself upright, unfolded a small wooden game board, and set two cloth bags atop it.

"This is training?"

"A valuable weapon in the shinobi's arsenal is the ability to strategize. It's not enough to be able to fight and do jutsu. If you can stay ahead of the enemy—if you can predict his attacks before he does, you and your teammates will be the ones to survive."

Tsuki poured out the contents of the small bag closest to him, and ran his hands through the black glass stones, appreciating both their smoothness and the satisfying noise they made as they tumbled against each other.

"Strategy can involve predicting the enemy's movements, how they will deploy their men, or how they will take and defend territory. We'll be studying all of these. Today, though, we'll start with territory."

"The object of this game is to attack and steal territory?"

"Yes, but it's a little more than that. It's not just about stealing, it's about taking undeclared territory, by outsmarting your opponent. The person with the most territory wins. To gain it, you surround your opponent and take him out, or you set up an impenetrable wall. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?"

"These stones mark my territory?"

"Not quite. The spaces surrounded by these stones are your territory. These men occupy places on the board, but they are just the tools that are used to secure the territory. They themselves don't count in the final score."

"Like us."

Kakashi smiled at his son, a genuine smile of paternal pride. Teaching Tsuki was going to be far different from his efforts with the obtuse Naruto or the disrespectful, unappreciative Sasuke. It might actually be a rewarding experience.

"We're just tools, after all, aren't we? It doesn't matter how many shinobi a village has, if they lose in the end."

"You've thought about this before." Kakashi smiled again.

"My dad was a strategist. That was one of his favorite sayings—mom says it a lot."

It hurt to hear Tsuki call someone else his dad, even though the boy didn't remember this man. Kakashi grimaced. He'd known the boy for less than two full days and already he felt attached to him. Why hadn't Sakura told him about his own son? Had she been afraid of his likely response? Had she wanted to hurt him? He sighed. He couldn't blame her if the latter had been the case. And if it had been the former—how would he have responded if she _had_ told him? Kakashi looked up from the board to see Tsuki looking at him curiously. What had they been talking about? Right. They'd been talking about his _dad_, the strategist. Best to steer the conversation in a new direction, then. Sakura had been quite the player, if his recent recollection were any indication of her true skill at the game.

"Has your mother played go with you before?"

"Go?"

"This game."

"No, sensei. I've never even heard of this game. We play shogi sometimes, though. Mom has a board my grandpa gave her."

"Hmm. Well, let's get started. I'll teach you the rules as we need them, but here are the basics." Kakashi placed a white stone on the board, and surrounded it with four black ones. "Assuming you are black, and I am white, you've just earned some territory. You have one point, once you remove this prisoner. The prisoner will be important at the end of the game, because he'll be used to take away from my territory. Kind of like a hostage negotiation—I'll need to give something up to get him back." He picked up the white stone and set it aside, then laid out a series of contiguous white stones. "Where would you need to place your stones to take out all of these pieces?"

Tsuki quickly surrounded the white stones on all sides, a smile upon his face. "Easy."

"However, unlike a real conflict, we take turns deploying our men." Kakashi removed several of Tsuki's stones. "What would happen if I made this move on my next turn?"

Tsuki thought for a moment, then assertively placed a stone alongside Kakashi's.

"Good move. There's more, but this is enough to start—are you ready to play?"

"Who goes first?"

"You do. Black."

"Doesn't that give me a huge advantage?"

Kakashi smiled again, at the cleverness of his four-year old son. He wished he had met the boy a whole lot sooner. "You're right. It does. To make up for that, white is given a komi—I start the game 5 ½ points in the lead."

They played for quite a while, the soft clacking of the stones against the thin board the only sound either made. Kakashi was surprised at how adept his son was at the game. He had decided against giving him the handicap of several stones, thinking that Tsuki's response to an early loss would teach him a lot about the boy's temperament. But Tsuki was easily holding his own, digesting and making his own each rule Kakashi threw out, and turning the tables on his mentor more than once. It was getting dark, the older player noticed. Sunset was at about four p.m. at this time of year, and he had no intention of annoying Tsuki's mom any more than he already had.

He sighed. "We'll do this again, tomorrow."

"Why can't we finish?"

"It's close to dinner time. Your mom may be worried." Kakashi swept the stones to one side of the board, and began to sort them into two piles.

"Hatake-san?" A teenaged boy quickly approached, dressed in the uniform worn by the hokage's administrative staff. "I have a message from Hokage-sama. Fuyuno-san will be in surgery until seven or eight at the earliest. Tsunade-sama requests you watch over her son until that time." The boy bowed, then sped away, the several scrolls in his possession indicating that he was nowhere near finished with the tasks assigned to him.

Kakashi looked at the now-empty board, then at his son, crinkling his eye into his trademark smile. "Wish he'd stopped by just one minute earlier."

"It's okay, sensei. I remember how the board was set up." Tsuki stood and brushed off his pants. "So, what are we having for dinner?"


	7. Chapter 7 A Doll, a Book and a Bum

_Disclaimer: Naruto and associated characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto. They are not my property!_

**A Book of Five Rings—Go Rin No Sho **

**Chapter 7: **_**A Doll, a Book and a Bum**_

The fifth hokage recognized guideposts on the path of self-destruction when she saw them. She had, after all, spent the larger portion of her life on this road. The specific details of the road differed from traveler to traveler, she knew, but the general signs were the same, and the methods of destroying oneself slowly were limited in number. Her chosen way had been twofold: alcohol and gambling. The alcohol was not only to numb the feeling of total devastation she'd experienced upon losing both her brother and her lover in quick succession, nor was the gambling a mere self-diversionary tactic. She'd relished the drama each massive loss brought to her life, the quick escapes in the middle of the night, and the resulting years spent on the run. The chance of humiliation each wager carried with it was intense, and the feeling of elation she felt each time she ran away produced an adrenaline rush worth bottling and selling. But beyond these short lived sensations, a small part of her had wanted to get caught, she realized, had wanted to suffer, a bit, in recompense to those she'd survived.

It was the twelve-year old Naruto who'd caught her, unwittingly, and who'd made her see that her life had not ended with those of the ones she'd loved.

Drugs, alcohol, overeating: these were the major paths of self destruction, differing from each other primarily in the amount of time each needed to reach the shared goal. Each allowed a person to escape by numbing the pain that dominated one's waking hours. But they did more than that. They allowed a person to feel a small amount of pleasure in an otherwise restricted life. Tsunade thought back to a patient she had treated several years ago. The woman was huge, morbidly obese, and with good reason. She'd never gotten ahead, never once broken even in the events of her life. Not once had fate sided with her. The woman had revealed, with careful probing on her medic's part, the reason for her bingeing. It was the only time she could feel, she had said. Eating was the only thing that brought her any pleasure, however limited; she was otherwise numb. It didn't matter that this pleasure was fleeting, and more than balanced by the remorse and self-hatred she felt at the end of each session. She had decided that the pain she felt was more than balanced by the pleasure. Apart from that, self-loathing and remorse were key parts of this cycle. They formed the flywheel that caused the path to be treaded in a circuit, ad infinitum.

Alcohol and drugs were the same. Yes, they numbed. Yes, they allowed one to escape, to forget the cause of the ever-present pain. But they also brought pleasure. A cheap, shallow pleasure, to be sure, but most users felt that this was all they deserved.

Tsunade was thankful that she had veered from this path. She still imbibed (more frequently than her assistants knew), and her palms still itched to hold dice, cards, or even a pachinko knob, but she no longer felt the intense need to drown herself in drink, or in gambling. Her vices had diminished from overpowering obsessions to manageable habits. The village was too important to her for this to be otherwise.

Kakashi, the fifth hokage had realized some time ago, was still traveling the path of self destruction she knew so well, and it was likely that he had been on this path for years. Months earlier, Shizune had come to her superior with her concerns: Kakashi's so-called annual exam had shown her that his liver was deteriorating. Not to the point of becoming a health risk, mind you—a simple inflow of chakra had been enough to mend the damage that had been done. It was what the damage represented that was dangerous. Tsunade instructed Ibiki to examine the man carefully during his next psych evaluation, and her fears were confirmed. No one scored a perfect score on such a test—not unless one were faking it.

Tsunade didn't blame him for falling apart, and in truth, she admired the fine job Kakashi had done in hiding his true condition from the village. He exemplified the ninja doctrine of showing no emotion, of dealing with life's losses stoically. But he'd dealt with more loss than the typical ninja —the shameful death of his parents, the loss of sensei and surrogate parent, Minato, the sudden deaths of his first teammates, as well as the defection of the student whose bloodline the village had depended. The guilt he carried with him must be a tremendous burden.

The blonde-haired, ever youthful leader of the village hidden in the leaves pushed a fringe of hair from her face, leaned back in her oversized office chair and sighed. Placing Tsuki with Kakashi had been a good idea—she was sure of it. She hadn't lied when she told Sakura that her former mentor was the best person for the job, even if he was also the boy's father, and despite the history Sakura and Kakashi shared. In Tsunade's mind there had been no other contenders for the job, even before she learned of Tsuki's parentage. No one measured up to Kakashi. He knew his stuff, plain and simple—he lived the shinobi ethic. This was why he had been chosen to lead team seven, after all, the team that had held the two great hopes of Konoha. Despite the appalling lack of respect he showed toward himself and others in his personal life, Kakashi's conduct as shinobi and teacher had always been impeccable. His personal demons had never strayed into his work—he was too strong a shinobi, too dedicated to the ideals of his calling to allow that.

Besides, the pairing of Tsuki and his birth-father carried with it potential benefits. If Tsuki could do for Kakashi what Naruto had done for her—if he could act as a catalyst to trigger even the smallest change in the copy ninja- -the village would be greatly strengthened. A Kakashi on autopilot was an enemy to be reckoned with-- the fact that his name and profile had been in bingo books for over twenty years attested to this. What kind of enemy would a renewed Kakashi be?

No, Kakashi as Tsuki's teacher wasn't the problem at all. The problem was Sakura.

Sakura was a different person than the teenager who'd left Konoha years before. Tsunade had expected her protégé to come back a more mature person—the responsibilities of running a medical training program as well as single motherhood would have seen to that—but the Sakura who had returned differed in additional ways the godaime had not foreseen. It was as though she had erected a thick, impenetrable wall around herself. In the days since her return, Tsunade had not seen her student smile, except for the times she was with Tsuki. Was this attributable to hurt inflicted by Kakashi, or had something happened in Waterfall? She hadn't spoken yet of the short marriage she'd had there, although Tsunade knew from correspondence with Waterfall's leader that Sakura's husband had been shinobi and had been killed in action. Perhaps his death had been the final straw.

The emotion that had been Sakura's defining attribute was not gone, however. Tsunade had observed her with patients and saw that the empathy present in the best medics was still with Sakura. She cared about her patients, and clearly loved her work with the same passion as before.

But there was an emptiness to her interactions outside of the exam room. At best, her passion was hidden. But this made sense. She'd lost almost everyone, too, Tsunade realized. Sasuke, years before, when he betrayed the village the first time, and once again, in death; then her husband, and her parents. The only ones left were her shishou, Naruto, and Tsuki. Tsunade guessed she'd cut off Naruto and herself proactively. Better to be alone than to feel pain again.

So Tsuki was all she had—all she allowed herself to have. No wonder she was unwilling to trust his tutelage to Kakashi. Unlike anyone else in the village, he had a tie to the boy. But he'd betrayed Sakura, and was at least a partial cause for the barrier she'd constructed. Tsunade could feel the wall go up every time she broached the topic of Tsuki's training. Sakura was having a very hard time with it.

Tsunade harbored no illusions about the possibility of Sakura somehow redeeming Kakashi. Love was a powerful force, to be sure, but in real life, things just didn't work that way. Tsunade knew from hard experience that the individual was the agent of his own change. No one could make another person change—it had to come from within. Shizune had tried for years to change her, but it hadn't happened until Tsunade wanted it. Yes, it had been triggered by an outside agent, but the decision to change had been hers alone.

_You will change when it becomes too painful not to change._

Besides, Kakashi and Sakura were both damaged goods. It seemed unlikely that either would be able to demonstrate the vulnerability and openness needed to fall in love with another individual, let alone each other. Children were different, she knew. There was little risk in loving one's own son, and there was also a powerful biological imperative at work. Sakura had no choice but to fall in love with Tsuki, and it was likely Kakashi would as well.

There was no denying that it would have been nice if things had gone differently. If Kakashi and Sakura had somehow fallen in love years before, if they and Tsuki were a family, if they'd had more children—Tsunade's face softened as she daydreamed for a moment. The benefit to the village would have been tremendous, of course—even without Kekkai Genkai, the idea of combining their genes was a no-brainer. Tsuki, the finest prodigy in a generation, was ample evidence of that. He would probably surpass his parents effortlessly.

But children weren't glue. The fact that the pair had produced a child wouldn't be enough to bring or keep them together. It never was.

That's life, Tsunade thought with a wry smile. It rarely worked out the way one hoped, or even the way that one expected. She sat, head in hands for a while. There must be something she could do to make this arrangement easier for Sakura.

"Shishou?"

_Speak of the devil. Well, _think_ of her, anyway_.

"Shizune said I should check in with you before I left for the night."

"Take a seat." Sakura did so with the thankful air of a person who has spent far too long on her feet. "How did it go?"

"Difficult. He had lost so much blood by the time he arrived. And the weapon was different from anything I've ever seen. The kunai was shattered into at least fifty pieces. It took forever to find them all. His leg looked like hamburger by the time we were done. But he made it." Sakura stretched to relieve the kink in her back.

"I'm not surprised, with you in charge. I'd have done it myself, but I was late for a house call. It's good to see you're as sharp as ever. It was Iwagakure ninja that attacked, wasn't it?" Tsunade frowned. The rock village was not known for its ingenuity in weapons design. Their fighting style relied more on brute strength and perseverance than on strategic planning or forethought.

"Is there anything else, Shishou? Tsuki is a handful. I'm sure he's worn out the Uzumakis by now."

"He's not there." Sakura looked up in surprise. "I placed Hinata on bed rest today. She has preeclampsia. Under the circumstances, an extra child at the house seemed like a bad idea. Naruto is overwhelmed as it is."

"So where is he?" Sakura felt her pulse quicken. She had a feeling she already knew the answer.

"I sent a message to Hatake while you were in surgery. He's entirely capable of looking after his student in your absence." Tsunade carefully studied Sakura's reaction. There was rage bubbling just under the surface, though Sakura was trying mightily to control it. She stared over Tsunade's shoulder at a blank spot on the wall just behind her, silent as she struggled to maintain her facade.

Sakura finally spoke in a measured, emotionless voice. "I don't want Tsuki in Kakashi's house."

"How could that possibly make a difference, Sakura? He's in Kakashi's care for most of the day—how does locale play into things?"

"You described a professional relationship to me—one between student and teacher. Going to someone's house is a social event. Kakashi may be a good teacher—though I'm not convinced of that—but Kakashi the teacher and Kakashi the person are two completely different creatures. I don't want my son to know Kakashi the person." Her words grew vehement. "Kakashi the _person_ isn't worth knowing. He'll only hurt him."

Tsunade purposefully lowered her voice. Although she was sure she could easily win a screaming match with the young kunoichi, she didn't think it would help things. Now was not the time to be throwing her weight around. "Sakura, did you discuss your wishes with Kakashi? That he is not to have a father-son relationship with Tsuki?"

"Yes. But—"

"Kakashi is an honorable ninja. He'll do as you ask. I don't doubt it, even for a moment."

"You don't understand—"

"Then tell me."

"Do you have any idea what it's like to be Tsuki's mom? I see him maybe three hours a day, if I'm lucky, and most of that is taken up with chores and bathing and disagreeable things. Even when he was a baby he was usually in someone else's arms. How long has Kakashi spent with him today?" She looked at the clock which hung by the room's heavy double doors. "Almost twelve hours. And on a regular day he's with him three times longer than I am."

"You're afraid you're going to lose him."

Sakura wiped away the hot tears that had begun to stream down her face. "He's everything to me, Tsunade-shishou. Everything."

There was the emotion, and a glimpse of the old Sakura. Tsunade stood and approached her protégé.

"Will you do something for me?"

"What." Sakura's voice was without affect again.

"I've never steered you wrong, have I?"

"No, shishou." She sighed. It was true. _This_ mentor had never broken a promise.

"I know you're not able to trust Kakashi. So will you trust me, instead?"

Sakura looked at her hands. What were her choices? Run away? She'd likely lose her son and possibly her life if she did so. Get a new mentor for Tsuki? It was obvious that was not going to happen.

"Okay. Thank you, shishou." She bowed in respect, but also to hide the defiance she felt brewing inside of her.

…o…o…o…o…

A stop at the supermarket was necessary before heading home. The contents of Kakashi's refrigerator could be counted on the fingers of one hand, and condiments were generally not deemed acceptable dining fare. Some of them were past their expiration date, anyway. It would probably be easier to dine out, he realized belatedly as the automatic doors of the market slid shut behind them. But this was cheaper, and he had no idea when Sakura might be stopping by. He had a feeling she wouldn't be thrilled to see him—he guessed leaving Tsuki in his care had not been her idea. It certainly wouldn't do to be out when she arrived at his doorstep.

"What's your favorite?" he called ahead to Tsuki, who had taken it upon himself to steer the shopping cart, despite the fact that he was too short to see over the top of it. He was picking up speed, the copy ninja noticed. Unfortunately, the store was rather crowded with the usual pre-dinner rush.

"Miso soup." The boy turned a corner and disappeared from sight, though Kakashi could detect his chakra nearby. Then he heard a crash, a low swear, and a sweet-voiced apology. Apparently, Tsuki had learned a quick lesson in driving.

_Miso soup._ Kakashi laughed. Not only was it his own favorite, but it was ridiculously easy to make. He had dashi no moto at home and the freeze-dried packets surely didn't go bad. He pulled a box off the shelf, just in case, then hurried ahead to locate Tsuki.

The shopping cart was half-filled with an assortment of cookies by the time he found the small boy. Kakashi easily ignored the glares of the other shoppers in the aisle, although he couldn't help hearing several whispered comments about poor parenting and inadequate supervision.

"This doesn't look like dinner, Tsuki."

"It's for _after_ dinner." The boy rolled his eyes. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I thought we should get some of each."

"I'm not one for sweets, myself. And I have a feeling your mother—"

"Mom always gives me dessert!"

"Really. As much as you can eat?" The boy nodded, eyes wide, before realizing he'd been tricked. "I'm guessing it's usually fruit," the copy ninja finished dryly.

The boy blinked. "Sometimes we have cookies."

"Let's put these back, and concentrate on dinner." Kakashi quickly unloaded the cart, then escorted Tsuki into the relative safety of the refrigerated foods aisle. The boy ran to the front of the cart and jumped up, balancing himself on the cart's frame as the clattering vehicle rolled forward.

"Go faster."

"Aka or shiro?" The cart was pushed at a steady pace, daredevil request ignored.

"Huh?"

"Which type of miso do you prefer?"

"I don't know. I like the kind Mom makes."

"Aka it is, then." It was his favorite, anyway. Kakashi threw a small tub of soybean paste into the cart as well as a block of tofu, and liter of milk then moved toward the produce section. "What vegetable would you like with dinner?"

"Vegetable? I thought this was going to be fun." Tsuki jumped on the cart again, this time dragging his feet against its wheels in a futile effort to slow the cart's progression toward the least interesting section of the market.

"No preference? Takuan, then."

"No, no. Aokappa. Please." Tsuki smiled winningly.

Kakashi regarded the small boy as he located the pickled cucumbers. It was easy to forget how young the boy was when they were training, but outside of that it appeared to be another story. He was a typical four-year old, Kakashi guessed, though he had limited experience with children that age. He was full of energy, full of fantasy, and eager to test boundaries. But to be perfectly honest, by the end of a long day, the boy was tiring to be around.

_I really need a drink._

The market only had beer, as hard liquor was sold only by bars, but beer would be enough, Kakashi thought, as he paused before a refrigerated case. He'd had a steady craving since noon, which wasn't surprising as he hadn't drunk in over 36 hours. He'd gone without for longer, but only on missions. Going dry was never pleasant, though, and he'd prefer to avoid its symptoms. By now the craving was a steady drone, and no longer easy to ignore.

"Why are there so many different kinds?"

"Hmm?"

"Of beer. Why are there so many? Why are the bottles so different?"

"Well, there are a lot of different manufacturers."

"So it's like soda? There are lots of flavors?"

"No, they all pretty much taste the same. But there are some slight differences between brands."

"All this beer sure takes up a lot of space. More space than cookies, even." The boy looked longingly toward that aisle.

"I'm sure they sell a lot."

"Why?"

"Because people like to drink it."

"Why?"

Kakashi sighed. "Because it tastes good, I guess."

"Are you going to buy some?"

"I was thinking about it, yes." Kakashi set a package of his favorite lager into the cart.

"Can we share?"

"No. Beer is for grownups."

"Oh." Tsuki turned away for a moment as he regarded the diverse collection of brightly labeled bottles and cans. "Why?"

"Why?" In any other circumstance, he would have pulled out his Icha, Icha novel by now. Long before now. That was the point of carrying it around with him, after all—it was an instant blockade to intrusive questions. Damn Tsunade-hime, and her arbitrary rules.

"Why can't kids drink it? I bet I'd like it. The bottles look so cool."

"Because beer has alcohol in it, and alcohol is poisonous. It would damage your brain if you drank it."

"So adults drink poison?"

"Yes. But only in very small amounts."

"That's stupid. Why would you want to poison yourself?"

Kakashi sighed again. "Because… because when you drink a little bit of alcohol your body relaxes. Sometimes work can be…tough."

"Yeah. I know what you mean."

This elicited an unexpected laugh. Tsuki's was completely serious, it seemed. He'd even adopted the posture of an exhausted, broken man. Kakashi returned the six-pack to the cooler and turned to his son.

"Let's get going. I'll bet you're hungry after a hard day's work."

As he hadn't expected company, the apartment was a bit of a mess. Kakashi scooped up the articles of clothing that littered the floor (Whose underwear were those?), tossing them into the closet, then grabbed several empty cup ramen containers from the studio's sole table, a low glass-topped surface that served multiple functions. He had a sudden image of Tsuki crashing into it. He certainly hadn't considered child safety when he'd furnished the place years ago. Not that he'd put much effort into it. But Tsuki wasn't stupid-- he should be all right.

Kakashi pulled the go board from his backpack and handed it to the child. "You can get this set up while I start dinner, but don't put it on the table. We'll be eating there." The boy found an empty corner in the sparsely furnished room and began setting out stones in the patterns he remembered from earlier that day. Kakashi busied himself in the kitchen with dinner preparations, measuring and washing the rice, while putting water on to boil. Tsuki appeared to entertaining himself, he thought with a self-satisfied smile. This was easier than he'd expected. He rummaged through the cabinet of above the sink, in search of some extra strength headache medicine and B vitamins. The symptoms he was beginning to feel were predictable. The sweats would be next, unless he got some alcohol into his system. It had never gotten as far as allover shakes or hallucinations, though he remembered watching his mother suffer through those, each time she'd tried to quit. She'd been hospitalized more than once. It had been embarrassing—news traveled fast in a town as small as Konoha. Kakashi gulped down several large pills, then washed them down with a tall glass of water.

"Thirsty?" he called. No answer. That was not a good sign. Kakashi suddenly remembered the R-rated items that were readily accessible to the boy. He hurried into the small living area, and surreptitiously slapped a seal onto the low chest of drawers that stood by his bed. Tsuki did not appear to notice his action, as the go board still had his attention. The copy ninja breathed a small sigh of relief. He had no desire to have a birth control discussion with his young protégé. Kakashi then moved his small Icha, Icha collection to a new location on the top shelf of the bookcase, and addressed the boy. "Milk or water?"

"I only drink chocolate milk."

"Really. Hmm. Hope you like water."

"Milk's good."

Dinner passed without incident, apart from a spill. Tsuki managed to completely drench not only his shirt, but a good portion of the carpet. Unfortunately, the apartment lacked a washer and dryer. Laundering the shirt was therefore out of the question.

"Look in the top drawer for a t-shirt." The copy ninja pointed to the long dresser that stood against the wall, then left the room to get a towel. He laughed when he returned. The boy was swimming in the navy-blue shirt he'd selected. Kakashi had a sudden recollection of Sakura in a similar situation.

The pair spent the next hour playing go. The fact that Tsuki had remembered the arrangement of stones on the board, as well as the order in which they were played was quite impressive. His attention started to wander after an hour, however, which was only natural for a boy his age, even one this precocious. He fidgeted for a while, until Kakashi realized continuing was futile.

"Sorry, Tsuki, but I'm not sure that I have anything for you to play with. Do you like to draw?"

"Yeah, but I don't feel like it." The boy reached for his backpack, and climbed onto the twin bed that served as both sofa and sleeping area. "Don't worry. I know how to entertain myself."

Self reliance was a nice thing to see at such a young age. With a hidden grin, Kakashi reached automatically for the book he kept in his kunai pouch. Then he thought better of it. He was not in the mood for another probing discussion with the boy. He flopped into the room's only chair and regarded the son that was still nearly a stranger to him.

"What are those? Are they _dolls_?" Tsuki held two blue-clad figures, one in each hand. They appeared to be battling each other. Others lay beside him on the bed.

"They're action figures." The ninja-in-training gave his mentor a deadly look.

"I see."

"My grandma and grandpa Fuyuno made them for me." He handed one to Kakashi. The small doll was made of wood, he saw, and clearly a lot of effort had gone into its construction. The limbs moved, and hair had been applied to the head. The figure even wore a tiny blue uniform and matching vest.

"Cool, huh?" The boy smiled widely as he resumed his mock battle.

"Do they have names?"

"Well," said the boy, turning to him, "this one's Mom." He raised a pink haired-doll up for the copy ninja to see. It had obviously been made in Sakura's likeness—even her clothing resembled the items the real kunoichi favored. "And I decided yesterday that this one should be you." He handed another figure to Kakashi. The lower half of its face had been darkened with a permanent marker, and its tiny hitae-ate had been pulled down to cover its eye. The toy's platinum blond hair had been cut roughly into spikes, the copy ninja saw.

"Isn't this a female doll? I mean, action figure?"

"What's the difference?" Another eye roll. "That one looked most like you." Tsuki grabbed the doll from Kakashi's grasp and climbed back up onto the bed. The Sakura doll, he saw, was getting lots of play. Apparently she was as aggressive as her namesake.

"Has your mom ever showed you what she can do with her fists?"

"No. But others have told me stories about it. I hope she shows me how, someday." The Sakura figure pummeled a nearby pillow. "What can you do?"

"Plenty. Maybe I'll show you raikiri tomorrow."

"Mom said you're a copy cat."

"That's the truth. It's my specialty—I steal with pride."

"Stealing is wrong."

"Not in war, Tsuki. The rules are a little different, then."

The boy yawned, and Kakashi noticed for the first time the great deal of energy the boy was putting into staying awake. He was fighting sleep.

"Tired?"

"No. I really don't get tired. I hate sleeping."

"Why don't you close your eyes while I tell you a story?"

"About what?"

"What would you like?"

"Tell me about the boy in the picture."

"The boy in which picture?" Kakashi's eyes moved to the only two photos that were on display in the room—one of a young team seven, and a faded one of he, Rin, Obito and Sensei. It probably wasn't the former-- Kakashi guessed Tsuki would be able to identify the members of team seven by name, as Sakura likely still had her copy of the photo. Any questions he had about the kids in that picture had likely been answered some time ago. Kakashi frowned. He wasn't in the mood to talk about team Minato just now. He wondered which of his many obfuscatory tactics would work best against the boy, who was decidedly sharper than most of his usual targets.

"The picture in your top drawer. There's a picture of you, and a lady and a boy. Is he your son? Is he my age?"

Kakashi's eyes widened slightly before he caught himself. He was suddenly glad he'd sealed shut his nightstand. It was no surprise, though, that the boy was inquisitive. Persistent, too. Kakashi had replaced the photo under several layers of socks and underclothes-- it would have taken some work to find it. He thought for a while before answering Tsuki's questions. This was dangerous ground he was treading upon. "You're wrong," he said, finally. "The man in the picture isn't me. That's my father."

_Your grandfather. _

"So the little boy is you?" Tsuki looked at Kakashi in wonder, then giggled. "You were so tiny."

Kakashi joined in with a dry chuckle. "You're right. I was. I was the smallest in my class."

"Being a ninja is about more than strength, though, isn't it?"

"Physical strength is important, but it's not the only thing. A good ninja is well-rounded, and pushes himself to excel in many areas."

"Do you have brothers and sisters?"

"No. Only child."

"Like me." Tsuki looked intently at his mentor. "Were you lonely?"

"Are you?"

"Sometimes. When will I be on a team, Sensei?"

"You already are on a team, Tsuki."

"I mean with kids my age."

"When there are kids your age who are genin. Probably not for a couple of years."

"Oh." Tsuki closed his eyes and leaned back against a pillow. "Did you get into a lot of trouble as a kid?"

"Hmm. What do you mean?"

"Did you play pranks on other kids? Did you goof off in school?"

"No."

"Mom doesn't like it when I fool around." Tsuki was losing the battle, the copy ninja saw. His eyes were glazed, lids heavy with sleep. In a moment, he was asleep. With a sigh of relief, Kakashi pulled out Icha, Icha and settled back to read.

He was interrupted a few minutes later by an authoritative knock to the door.

"Sakura," he murmured as he rose to answer the door. It was about time—it was almost nine p.m., and he really, really needed a drink. Package sales ceased at ten, but he'd rather sit in the bar, anyway-- no point in drinking alone. Kakashi was wrong about the caller, however. He swung open the door to reveal the woman from the night before the last, dressed as suggestively as the first time he'd encountered her. This was awkward. He had no recollection of her name. Of course, he realized, he probably hadn't listened when she told him.

"Kakashi! Sorry to bother you, but I think I left something of mine here." The blonde smiled coyly as she moved forward as though to enter, but the copy ninja blocked her path, keeping the door partway shut behind him.

"Oh?" The copy ninja scratched the back of his head. What was she talking about? They'd spent a minimum of time together. He noticed that she looked older under the harsh fluorescent glare of the walkway. A bit worn, too.

"My bra and panties? I couldn't find them the other night."

"Right. I'll be back in just a minute." He shut the door tightly, then rummaged in the living area's only closet until he found the requested garments.

"Here you go." He proffered the items, noticing how her hand lingered on his own as she accepted the clothing, almost as though it was a gift. She smelled of stale beer and cigarettes.

"Are you busy? I was thinking…"

"Actually, I have company."

The blonde's face fell, though she tried to hide it with a pasted-on smile. "I guess what they say about you is true," she said, before turning away.

…o…o…o…o…

Sakura hurried along quiet Konoha streets until she reached the part of town where Kakashi lived. She assumed he still lived in the same cinderblock building he'd lived in years before. He was too lazy and cheap to move, she guessed. A second-floor door she remembered as his was open when she approached, and she saw Kakashi standing in the doorway talking to a much shorter person.

She made her way up the stairs quickly, but was pushed aside by a blonde-haired woman who seemed to be in a rush. The woman smirked at her as she passed. She could have been the same woman Sakura had glimpsed in his apartment years before—she had the same tousled blonde hair, the same cheap look. Kakashi's taste in females apparently veered toward the street-walker variety.

That was unkind, Sakura reproached herself. This one was definitely of a higher class—bar-room prostitute, at least. She felt a headache beginning as she approached Kakashi's door. The last time she'd been here had been a horrible experience. She'd hoped to never darken his doorstep again. The door opened, however, before she had a chance to do so.

"He's sleeping."

Sakura's eyes lingered on her son as she scanned the small area that comprised the Sharingan user's apartment. The man lived like a monk, it seemed. Everything was plain and utilitarian. He must not entertain much either—there was a single chair and no sofa. She frowned. It wasn't that he didn't entertain, it was just that the type of entertainment he indulged in didn't require upright seating.

Her son was lying in the bed, in the copy ninja's sole "entertainment" area. Sakura felt the blood rush to her face. "Kakashi—"

"Hungry? There's miso soup and rice left."

"I don't want to eat. We need to talk." She frowned again as she noticed Tsuki begin to stir at the sound of her voice.

"You're right. We do. There's something I've been meaning to tell you."

"It will have to wait. I'm not going to do this in front of my son."

The anger Kakashi felt emanating from the young kunoichi was almost palpable. It seemed to be flowing from Sakura in waves. "Sakura—"

She ignored him as she picked up her son and headed to the door. "I'll find you tomorrow, Kakashi. We can talk then."

Kakashi stared after the pair for a moment, then headed for the door himself. It was still early—plenty of time to relax with a drink or two. The reward was certainly justified.

He entered the first bar he came to—it wasn't his usual spot for this time of the week, but it would do. A cloud of smoke engulfed him as he entered, and he noticed the bar was quite crowded. It was karaoke night, he realized. He found the sole remaining empty table, which thankfully was in the darkest part of the bar. Too dark to read, but that really didn't matter. He was here to get drunk, after all.

In minutes, a bottle of sho-chu and a plain-walled glass were before him, and Kakashi downed his first glassful of the longed for beverage in record time. He felt the alcohol's warmth seep through him and begin to set things straight. He downed two more in succession, then craving satisfied, turned to examine his environment a bit more closely. A blowsy, older woman had just finished a song to a mixture of cheers and jeers. This seemed to be a tough crowd. A blonde took the stage next, stumbling a bit as she did so.

Shit. It was the woman he'd turned away only minutes earlier. How much had she drunk since then? She seemed toasted. She had a surprisingly good voice, Kakashi realized as she began to sing, but abysmal taste in music. The love song she'd chosen was one of his least favorites, schmaltzy and seemingly formulated to bring a person to tears. The truth was he didn't have much patience for any type of love song, whether the words described true passion or unrequited pain. He suddenly wished he hadn't come here. He wasn't sure if he could stomach a night of this.

Then things got worse. The blonde noticed him, and began to direct the lyric toward him. Her voice became more emotive as she sang of love lost and the general misery of life. Her words slurred, as well. The microphone cord, thankfully, was not long enough for her to join the audience. If it had been, Kakashi was sure she would have been standing in front, if not atop him, by now.

The woman bowed her head as she finished, and in the din of satisfied patrons, Kakashi took his cue to exit. The air was cool and refreshing, he noticed. He made his way to the municipal park that lay between the bar and his home, deciding a little time outdoors would do him good. The park was deserted and he had his choice of benches. He selected one that faced a sandstone fountain, turned off for the season. Regardless, it was one of his favorites, depicting, with rough forms, the founding of Konoha.

He pulled his precious bottle of sho-chu from a vest pocket and took a swig. This was a much better place to be alone with his thoughts.

He hadn't gotten the chance to apologize to Sakura, something he'd told himself he had to do. He was sure that doing so would lessen, a least a bit, the intense anger she directed toward him. After an evening with the boy, Kakashi had an inkling of the life Sakura had led for the past few years. She probably didn't get much sleep—Tsuki really was a handful. He could see how that alone would cause her to feel resentment. Added to everything else, he couldn't blame her for being angry, but he did want it to stop.

The scraping sound of metal against metal roused Kakashi from his thoughts. He quickly located the source of the noise—it was a street-person pushing a rusted shopping cart, filled with empty cans and bottles. The man paused under a light post allowing Kakashi to get a good look at him. He was wrapped in a tattered, brown blanket which probably was once some other color, given its mottling. His hair stood out in tangled, matted clumps, and his skin was blackened with ground-in dirt. A face gaunt with malnutrition noticed Kakashi, and stared back. His exposed skin was scarred deeply, the copy ninja saw. No civilian survived wounds of that sort. This man was a fallen shinobi.

The man pried the lid off a nearby trashcan and bent over double to delve among its contents. He emerged with the prize of several dented soda cans, noisily adding them to his collection before ambling on without a word to the ninja seated so close by. He wasn't a panhandler, it seemed. But that made sense, Kakashi realized. Autonomy was important to every ninja. One indoctrinated in the arts of the shinobi would never stoop to begging, no matter how dire the circumstances.

Kakashi stood and quickly left the park. It was late, he realized, and another day of training a diminutive whirlwind of energy lay before him. He needed to get some sleep to be up to the task.

…o…o…o…o…

"I see old habits die hard."

Kakashi looked up from his reading to see Sakura standing before him. Tsuki, he saw, was nearby, but out of earshot. The task he'd been given, of finding two completely identical leaves, should take him some time, as well as improve his powers of observation. The boy was kneeling on the ground, a pile of leaves before him, face frozen in concentration.

"Didn't Tsunade tell you that you weren't to read those books in front of Tsuki?"

"He's not here right now, is he?" The copy ninja resumed his reading, much to Sakura's chagrin.

"I don't want him spending time with you outside of training."

"That won't be a problem, Sakura. Minding him last night wasn't my idea, you know."

"Would you look at me when I'm talking to you?"

"Sorry." Kakashi shut the book and replaced it in his kunai pouch. She was furious, he saw.

"I can't believe—" she sputtered, then went silent.

"Can't believe what?"

"That you'd have company while my son was in your care."

"Company?"

"Don't play dumb. I saw that… woman leaving your place."

Kakashi sighed. "She didn't come in. She just needed to pick something up. Give me a little credit. Do you really think I would have a woman over when your son is with me?"

Sakura did not need to reply. Her look of disdain clearly and loudly said, "Yes!"

"I don't mix my personal and business lives, Sakura. Not any more."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you."

"I deserve that, I guess."

"You deserve much, much more than that."

"Sakura, it can't be good for Tsuki to see the anger you have towards me."

"Who the hell are you to say what is good or bad for my son? I don't believe you. I've always known that you're arrogant, but—"

"I'm sorry."

She searched the small visible portion of his face. "You're sorry."

"I treated you disgracefully. I shouldn't have left you that morning. Not without talking to you first."

"You didn't need to. Your actions said everything I needed to hear."

"Sakura—"

"I have to go. I have a house call to make. Keep it business, Kakashi. Don't get attached to my son. Tsuki!" The boy came running. "You can knock off early today. Let's go visit Uncle Naruto and get some dinner."

…o…o…o…o…

A quiet evening of reading was what he had in mind. He still had some sho-chu left, not enough to get drunk, but quite enough to take the edge off the remainder of a long day. Kakashi settled into his chair, set a cardboard takeout box on the table next to him, and pulled out his trusty orange book. He always read them slowly, savoring Jiraiya's long descriptions. It was important to read them in order, too. Not because the characters developed over the course of the series-- that wasn't at all true. Each book easily stood on its own. Rather, Kakashi read them in order as part of a ritual. He'd been through the ten volume series thirty times, now, and each time he'd started at book one and ended at ten. He had learned most of the text by heart by the third read through, but that didn't limit his enjoyment. Kakashi headed to the bookcase to replace the volume he'd just finished, and scanned the shelves for volume seven. The books were in numerical order, as usual, but oddly, the volume he needed was not present.

Strange. He was sure all nine volumes had been there when he'd moved them out of harm's reach the prior evening. Kakashi scanned the rest of the bookshelves, but they were filled with thick academic volumes and more boringly clad trade paperbacks. No neon-bright binding popped out at him.

It didn't take long to search the apartment. _Icha, Icha Pandemonium_ was gone.

"Tsuki. Shit."

Kakashi sat quietly for a moment as his analytical mind dissected, then reassembled the facts of his current situation. Sakura had almost joked when she'd saw him reading _Icha_, _Icha_ _Triage_. She didn't know Tsuki had the book. If she did know, Kakashi was certain he would have heard about it. If Tsuki was a typical boy (and there was some doubt about that), the book should be hidden somewhere in his room. The pair were probably still at dinner. He could search the boy's room while they were out.

It took minimal effort to break into the house. Sakura really should invest in higher quality locks, he thought. Not that he wouldn't be able to defeat those as well—it would be child's play for any ninja. But living alone required precautions, even for a kunoichi as talented as Sakura. Kakashi smirked as he considered the likely response were he to broach the topic. The copy ninja hurried upstairs and quickly located Tsuki's bedroom.

This was going to be more difficult than he'd imagined. Every square centimeter of the room's floor was covered with clothing, toys, or the small, junky objects young boys tended to collect. To make things worse, most of these objects were brightly colored. The acid green _Icha Icha_ _Pandemonium_ would easily blend in. Kakashi lifted the bed's mattress, a perfect hiding place for a relatively flat item. No luck. His eyes scanned the cubbies lining the wall. Some did indeed contain books (although most of these were on the floor), but none of them were of the adult variety. Kakashi sat on the bed and considered his options. It could easily take him hours to sift through the rubbish in this room.

He quickly rose as he heard the jangle of keys and voices downstairs.

"Tsuki. You have five minutes before your bath."

"Is it a hair bath?"

"Yes."

"Why? My hair is clean."

"You have got to be joking. I don't know how I let you talk me into not washing your hair every bath, young man."

Kakashi heard soft footsteps as Sakura climbed the stairs to the second floor, then a creak followed by the thundering of water.

He needed to get out and fast. He moved to the window and attempted to raise it, but it held tight. Was it nailed shut? He scanned the frame and saw the seal.

"Great minds think alike," he muttered to himself, then wondered exactly why it was necessary for Sakura to seal shut the windows. There was probably a very good, Tsuki-related answer.

"I don't believe this," he heard Sakura exclaim as she entered the boy's bedroom. His chakra was masked. Surely she hadn't detected him. "Tsuki—" she called to the boy downstairs, "did a bomb go off in your room? Get upstairs right now."

Kakashi heaved a sigh of relief from his position behind the door.

"What, Mom?"

"We've talked about cleaning your room. I helped you clean it just the day before yesterday, and you weren't even _here_ yesterday. How is it possible that it's trashed already?"

"It's my room, isn't it?"

There was an audible sigh. "Yes, Tsuki, it's your room. But our family has rules. You have to take care of your things. You'll need to clean this up before bedtime. Understood?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Bath."

"Do we have to wash my hair?"

"Yes." Kakashi nearly laughed aloud as he remembered how much he'd hated his nightly baths as a child. There was something about boys and dirt, it seemed. The two were never separated for long.

"Hop in." He heard a splash and realized the pair were in the bathroom. Now was his chance. The bathroom door was half-shut, he saw as he headed down the hall. Once he made it past he'd be home free.

"What is this goo in your pocket?"

"It's a slime mold. Cool, huh? Can you bring me some toys?"

"Sure."

Kakashi hurried from the hall into Sakura's bedroom, and smiled as he noticed the sliding door to her balcony. Then he heard a splash and the sound of small feet bounding down the stairs.

"Tsuki! Get back here!" The medic pounded down the stairs after the small, naked miscreant.

"I'm clean! I don't need my hair washed!"

Kakashi unlocked the balcony door and attempted to slide it open. Damn. It was sealed shut, too. The seal had not been here several nights earlier. He frowned as he realized she'd probably put them up to not to keep Tsuki in, but to keep _him_ out. Knowing Sakura, she'd applied a complex jutsu to the seal—it wouldn't be something he could crack easily. And now the pair was downstairs. It looked he might be stuck here for a while.


	8. Chapter 8 Peace Offering

_Disclaimer: Naruto and associated characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto. They are not my property!_

**A Book of Five Rings—Go Rin No Sho **

**Chapter 8— Peace Offering**

Sakura's closet was a bit cramped. Not with the young kunoichi's belongings— most of the things in here apparently belonged to her late parents, based on their cut and size. Kakashi sat sideways on a box behind a near-closed sliding door, listening attentively to the conversation just across the hall. He was stuck—neither the body flicker nor teleportation technique worked in proximity to a seal. Few jutsu did. He'd have to sneak out the old-fashioned way. Luckily, he was a pro at that.

"It would be a whole lot easier to wash your hair if you sat down, you know."

"I want to stand."

Kakashi heard a heavy sigh. Apparently the younger member of this household was often the victor in the battle of wills. He couldn't blame her, though. After an evening with his son, he'd been completely worn out. He couldn't imagine how he'd react after four years of daily interaction with the near-hyperactive child.

"Tilt your head back. Back. Do you want to get shampoo in your eyes?"

"Don't get it in my ears!"

"You go swimming all the time. How is this any different?"

"This is bathwater." There was another sigh, followed by the sound of pouring water.

"There. All done. That really wasn't so bad, was it?"

"I need a towel! A towel! My face is wet!"

"Better?"

"Yes. Could you bring me some toys?"

"Do you promise not to run away again?"

"Yes, Mom. There's no need to run, now." He did "sulky" so well.

"What should I bring you?"

"How about my ninja figures?"

"They really shouldn't get wet, Tsuki."

"No. Grandpa said he coated them with wax. Wax is water repellent."

"Okay. Are they in your room?"

"No. In my pack."

"Which is where?"

"I guess I left it downstairs."

Kakashi heard the soft tread of footsteps up and down the carpeted stairs, then a sudden, completely uninhibited laugh.

"You made a Kakashi figure? Out of _Ino_?" Kakashi could almost picture Sakura rolling on the floor.

"So?"

"Never mind. Nice work—it looks a lot like him. Especially--" It was clear she was trying to control her giggles.

"Especially what?"

"Oh, um, the mask. Good job on the mask."

It was never pleasant to be on the receiving end of mockery. Kakashi consoled himself with the fact that at least he had made Sakura laugh. It was nice to hear her in a happy mood, even if it was at his own expense.

"Whom else do you want? The red-haired ninja?"

"His name is Aka-nin."

"Sorry. Aka-nin?" The sound of splashing ensued, and Kakashi considered leaving his hiding place to see if the bathroom door was closed. He had just slid open the door when he heard Sakura almost yell in a frightening, Tsunade-like voice.

"What the _hell_ is this?"

Kakashi had no doubt about what was coming next.

"Young man, explain to me exactly why this book is in your pack. Did Kakashi give it to you to read?"

Did she really think he was that low?

There was silence for the next few minutes. Then, "I took it, Mom. Sensei moved them out of the way, so I _had_ to see what they were."

It was almost as though he had invited Tsuki to take a look, Kakashi realized. He still had a lot to learn about four-year-olds.

"Did you read it?" Her voice was softer now.

"No."

There was silence, then, "I'm sorry for exploding at you, Tsuki, but… When you're a guest at someone's house, you can't take their things. Stealing is wrong. You know that."

"Sensei said stealing is sometimes okay for ninja."

"Only when it comes to protecting and supporting our village. Were you doing either of those things?"

"No, Mom. I'm sorry."

"It's confusing, isn't it? A lot of what we do outside the village we would never do here, or to our friends and family. Or teachers. But, Tsuki, I think every young shinobi makes that mistake. Come here."

The boy was crying, Kakashi realized.

"We all make mistakes, sweetheart. I just made one, too. I'm sorry for yelling at you, and I'm sorry for swearing. Come on. Let's get you dried off. Would you like to read for a little bit?"

"I h-h-have to… c-clean—"

"Would you like to play 'Hokage Commands,' so we can get it done quickly?"

"Can I be Hokage first?"

"Sure."

"How many bossies?"

"Um, two."

"Three."

"Two, or we don't play."

"Grrrr. Fine."

"Don't growl at me, young man. Now, go find the hat. I need to change out of this shirt."

Kakashi saw Sakura enter in a zip-front shirt that was soaked through. She held his precious book with only the tips of her thumb and index fingers, as though the volume were covered with infectious material. She muttered something under her breath as she set the book on her nightstand, then quickly stripped out of her wet shirt. She removed her bra, as well, treating the copy ninja to a very candid view of her breasts.

Still firm, he noted as she leaned over to remove her skirt and skin-tight undershorts, though her breasts were a bit bigger then he remembered. Nice. The areolae, he noted as she turned to examine herself in the mirror, were just a tad darker. Still, you could barely tell she'd gone through pregnancy. Her body was as toned and muscular as it had ever been, and he saw no sign of stretch marks or the sagginess that afflicted many women post partum.

Kakashi's eyes scanned Sakura's slim form as she pressed her fingers against her belly, then hips, frowning slightly as she did so. Like most women, it appeared she saw flaws in her body, though it seemed evident to the copy ninja that they were visible only to her. Yes, her hips were a bit rounder than those of an eighteen year old, but they only made her look more womanly, more feminine. Their pronounced curve was tremendously appealing. And her ass—with its full, inverted heart shape and a firmness that was evident as she walked across the room—it was almost beyond comparison.

She was as gorgeous as ever, he realized, perhaps more so, now that her body had filled out to its current, curvaceous shape. What was the expression he'd heard Genma use, last time they'd compared war stories? She was a MILF, through and through. Fuyuno had been a lucky man to have a specimen like that in his bed every night.

Kakashi nearly slapped himself. What was he doing thinking thoughts like these? He really needed to get out of here, find a woman and satisfy his need for cheap, anonymous sex. It had been over 60 hours since the last time. No wonder he was thinking thoughts like these.

_Shit!_ She was opening the closet door. The image of a near-naked Sakura punching the daylights out of him flashed through his mind, simultaneously titillating and frightening him. He'd seen what she could do to a rock wall, after all. He quickly calmed himself, however. She seemed to be limiting her search of the closet to the far end. Given that her parents' clothes were on this end, he should be safe. Kakashi peered through a slight parting he made between garments and relaxed as he saw Sakura remove a plain, black kimono, and slide the door shut again. Kimono secured tightly around her, she turned off the light and left the room, and Kakashi exhaled loudly in relief.

"Tsuki? Are you ready to play?"

"Ha! Are _you_ ready, Mom? First bossy is: The Hokage commands-- find everything that has a stripe on it, and put it where it belongs." Kakashi was surprised by the boy's low, booming voice—he sounded quite authoritative.

"Good one, Tsuki. That's half the stuff in here. I knew I shouldn't have given you two bossies."

"Done. What's next?" She said after a while.

"Hokage commands you to find everything that has wheels, and put it where it belongs."

There was silence, apart from the clunking noises of toys falling into bins.

"My turn. Give me the hat. Ready? The Hokage commands—find everything that is made of wood, or once was made of wood, and put it where it belongs."

"But that's everything that's left! I was going to use that bossy on my next turn."

"Hokage commands."

"You know, Mom, this would be a lot easier with shadow clones."

"You know the rule. No jutsu in the house. The fire you started the other day was frightening."

"I put it out right away."

"It wasn't exactly 'right away,' and you drenched the carpet in the process. The water dragon was a bit excessive. These seals are up for a reason, Tsukiakare, and by the way, I'll be able to tell if you've tampered with them."

Somehow, the fact that the seals were a response to Tsuki's actions, not his own, made Kakashi feel a bit better. It was good to know that Sakura's reaction to his first visit hadn't been quite as strong as he had inferred. He felt bad about the water dragon, though. He'd had second thoughts about possible collateral damage from the technique the moment he'd shown it to the boy. Tsuki's eyes had gleamed just a little too brightly when he saw its effect.

"Can we read now?"

"Are your teeth brushed?"

"_Why_ is it so important to brush?" The boy stomped toward the bathroom, and Kakashi realized his chance to exit was approaching. He moved close to the bedroom door, which was slightly ajar, and peered into the hallway. The bathroom door was still open, as was Tsuki's bedroom, but Sakura should be occupied with reading to her son in just a few seconds. Only a bedside lamp illuminated that room, but unfortunately, the hall light blazed brightly. If he didn't time it right, if she were to look up as he fled, she'd have an almost daylight-bright image of him.

This would be a lot easier if the pair were civilian, or better still, if only one of them were present. He'd just wait for the moment when her back was turned, focus his eyes on the nape of her neck to gauge any potential movements, and proceed slowly to the stairs. But Sakura was trained to feel the presence of another's eyes on her—it was extremely valuable for a ninja, and even more so for a kunoichi to recognize another's attentions. Even with his chakra masked there was a good chance she'd detect him once he moved. Tsuki, on the other hand, was a wild card. Kakashi hadn't yet assessed the boy's capacity to detect movement peripherally.

It would probably be safer, he decided, to wait it out. Sakura was undoubtedly tired after a day of surgeries and house calls, followed by a few rounds with her over-energetic son. She'd likely fall asleep soon after Tsuki did.

A sliver of light from the hallway illuminated the volume sitting on her nightstand. Kakashi eyed the book longingly. The mission was a failure. He couldn't take the book with him, now that she'd discovered it. He wasn't looking forward to being on the receiving end of her wrath-- there'd be hell to pay tomorrow, to be sure. He doubted she'd return the book to him, at least not in the condition in which she'd found it. And it was a signed, first edition, specifically inscribed with his name and the words, "To my greatest fan. May the obsession live on." He'd gone to a lot of effort to secure the thin volume, and sadly, it was now out of print.

"Mom, I don't really want to read. Could we snuggle?" Kakashi heard the slight creak of bedsprings as Sakura climbed in beside her son. "Will you tell me about Grandma and Grandpa Haruno?"

"What do you want to know? I think I've told you every interesting story I remember."

"Did they look like me?"

"Not really, Tsuki. Grandma had reddish pink hair, kind of like mine, and Grandpa had white hair, but it started out black. And green eyes."

"Like mine?"

"Sort of. Yours are a lot more interesting."

"So I don't look like them, either? And I don't look like you or my dad. Aren't kids supposed to look like their parents or at least their grandparents? Some of Uncle Naruto's kids look like him, and the others look like Aunt Hinata. And every kid in Waterfall looked like their parents."

Sakura's voice was soothing. "Children don't always look like their parents, or even their grandparents. Sometimes they look like their great grandparents, or cousins."

"What did they look like—my great grandparents?"

"Well, Grandma Haruno's dad had red hair, and I think her mom had brown. And Grandpa Haruno was adopted."

"Adopted?" At times like this, Kakashi realized, the fact that Tsuki was still a little boy became apparent. There were big gaps in his understanding of social concepts, gaps you'd expect to see in any young child. Tsunade had been right not to place him in a team of older genin.

"His parents didn't give birth to him."

Kakashi imagined the boy's brow furrowing. "So where did he come from?"

"Sometimes when a baby is born, the parents can't take care of it. And sometimes another family can't have a baby, but really wants one. So if things work out, a family who really wants the baby raises it as their own."

"So Grandpa never met his real parents?"

"Sure he did. The parents who raised him were his real parents. It's the love that matters, Tsuki."

"Oh." There was a pause, and then in a voice almost inaudible to the copy ninja, the four-year-old spoke again. "Mom, am I adopted?"

"No, Tsuki. Don't you remember looking at pictures of us in the hospital, right after you were born, and pictures of your dad and me when you were in my tummy?"

"Oh, yeah. I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too. Now, close your eyes. I'll stay with you until you fall asleep."

"Mom?"

"Yes, Tsuki?"

"Why do you hate Sensei?"

She waited so long to answer that Kakashi figured he had somehow missed her response, or that she had refused to answer. He was surprised when she spoke.

"I don't… _hate_ him, Tsuki. It's a little more complicated than that. I don't think you would understand."

"I'm pretty smart, you know."

"I know that, young man." He giggled in delight. Perhaps she was tickling him in an effort to distract him. If so, it wasn't working.

"Did he do something mean to you?"

"No, Tsuki. He just wasn't the person I thought he was-- that's all. No more questions. Good night, sweetheart."

A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened and shut, and Sakura flopped onto to her bed, not even bothering to turn on the light, or pull back the covers. She groaned with exhaustion as she settled into her pillow, and Kakashi was sure she'd be sleeping in moments. He lifted his hitae-ate to expose his Sharingan. The room was quite dark without illumination from the hallway, and the last thing he wanted to do was to trip over something on his way out.

With the light gathering ability of the pupil-like tomoes of his gifted eye, Kakashi could easily see the contents of the room and its occupant, whose own eyes, he noticed, were wide open. She was turned toward him, although it was apparent that she couldn't see him. She looked deep in thought, and somber, and Kakashi guessed that the source of her concern was the conversation she'd had with her son minutes earlier.

Tsuki was smart—smarter than most. It was only a matter of time before he figured things out. Kakashi imagined Sakura was second guessing her decision to deceive the boy. From the copy nin's point of view, it was clear that things were likely to end in tears.

"Bastard," he heard her say softly. Maybe she wasn't thinking about her son, after all. He squinted as she turned on the bedside light and grabbed his treasured book from its place on the nightstand.

She leafed through it at first, smirking and rolling her eyes as she read what Kakashi assumed were some of its more colorful passages. Eventually, however, she settled into reading.

Kakashi groaned inwardly. His legs had fallen asleep. Not only that, it was getting late. He knew well that as the night progressed the choice of drunken, available women would diminish significantly. He had no intention of lowering his standards, no matter how horny he was, but Sakura was certainly making things difficult for him.

He wished he could cast a genjutsu in this room, or that his wide-ranging knowledge of ninjutsu extended to mind-control. Even so, he found himself silently chanting, over and over, "You're sleepy. Turn out the lights." It was to no avail, however. She seemed more engrossed now than before.

Her robe had opened, he realized, as she'd bent her leg in an effort to get comfortable. Her skin glowed alabaster against the dark silk of the simple garment. There was no denying that she was lovely-- lovelier than anyone he'd been with in recent memory. She radiated a vitality and youthfulness that was missing from his usual partners. Even unhappy, as she'd been every time she'd spoken with him, there was a passion that appeared to burn within her. She didn't do things halfway.

He watched, mesmerized, as she ran a finger from her knee to her hip, exposing the scrap of fabric that served as panties. He hands moved northward, lingering for a moment on the thin obi of her kimono. In moments the fabric was pooled around her, as the robe slipped to the side. Her fingertips traced a light pattern on her abdomen and ribcage, then moved higher still to caress her breasts.

_Look away, Kakashi. Away, damn it!_

But he couldn't. It was as though she were the serpent demigoddess described in the myths of the countries across the sea— but an incredibly beautiful medusa, with silken strands of finest pink in place of thick, writhing snakes. He had seemingly turned to stone, and was unable to look away.

_Please, please go to sleep, Sakura._

She climbed out of the bed to turn out the light, giving the copy ninja a frontal view of her perfect breasts. But at least she had complied with his silent request.

Or maybe not.

She slipped the robe from her arms and the panties from her hips, then returned to the bed. Once more she lay atop the covers, not safely underneath. Again Kakashi was immobile, unable to do so much as shut his eyes, or pull down his hitae-ate.

_You've never masturbated? You should. You'd like it._

His own voice echoed in his ears. She'd followed his advice from years before, it seemed. It was obvious now that indeed she did like it, and that she'd tried it at least a few times. She appeared to be an expert at pleasuring herself. Kakashi watched as her fingers slid over her satin white flesh, with a touch light enough to make her body shiver. She licked one finger, then touched it to her breast, circling the rosy target until its flesh became rigid. She then rolled her nipple between her fingers with a touch that was rougher than he would have imagined she'd like.

Her hands moved down her torso, to her thighs, then between. Kakashi tried again to look away, but it was useless, he realized. Besides, a part of him realized he was quite enjoying this. The trick would be to get away unseen, afterwards. If he could accomplish that, he'd store this memory with his most private and revered ones. This definitely would not be one he'd be sharing with the boys on the nights they were successful in getting him drunk enough to talk candidly.

She was wet. He could tell by the liquid noise her fingers made as they caressed the soft folds of flesh between her legs. Yes, she definitely knew what was doing. She spread her legs wider, then arched her back in pleasure, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Her moan became more guttural as she penetrated herself, and Kakashi felt the slightest trickle of blood flow from his nose. This was better than any peep show he'd seen in the red light district of Sand, better than the countless lap dances he'd paid for (or sometimes acquired for free) in roadside houses of pleasure. The reason, of course, was that it was real. And, he admitted to himself, much of its eroticism stemmed from the fact that she didn't know he was watching. Kakashi had a sudden epiphany regarding Jiraiya. He'd never understood why the man insisted on stealing glimpses of townswomen when he could gaze as much as he wanted—and better still, _do_ something-- for the price of a few glasses of alcohol. Now the famed sannin's obsession made sense.

She was coming, he realized. Not, he thought with a smirk, as violently as she had when he had been responsible for her pleasure. This was more subdued, more gentle.

He hadn't been this turned on in years.

As if in response to this silent admission, Sakura rose from her bed, wrapped her robe tightly around her, and left the room.

Kakashi struggled to his feet, the pins and needle sensation in his legs conspiring with the lack of blood flow to his brain to slow his progress considerably. Perhaps she was checking on Tsuki. If so, he'd finally be able to get the hell out of here. Sure, it had been an illuminating evening in several ways, but the cost of getting caught, now that he had witnessed an extremely private act, had just been raised to an extreme he was unwilling to pay. Kakashi carefully cracked the door. He felt only Tsuki's chakra—she didn't appear to be on this floor.

He swore softly, then cracked his back before reentering the confines of the shallow closet. Hopefully she'd fall asleep soon. She'd satisfied herself, hadn't she? He knew he always wanted to sleep just after completion of the sex act. Surely she was the same.

Sakura returned to the room just as a clattering sound emanated from the street— a cat knocking over a trash can, perhaps? She locked the door, he noticed, then walked quickly to the balcony window to get a look at the source of the unusual noise, tiptoeing to see over the wood and metal railing. She quickly formed a fairly complex pattern of seals (which, thanks to his Sharingan, Kakashi easily memorized), peeled off the seal and slid open the door. Satisfied that nothing was amiss, she returned to the room and her bed, slipping off her kimono as she crossed the room.

He'd guessed she liked to sleep in the nude. When he'd surprised her the other night, she'd been completely unclothed, quickly wrapping herself in the coverlet to escape his gaze.

Kakashi smiled as he shifted his gaze from the stunning kunoichi to the balcony door. She hadn't replaced the seal. It would be easy to leave, now. As soon as she was asleep or otherwise distracted, he could teleport out of there. His energy signature would be displayed for a fraction of a second, as one couldn't teleport with masked chakra, but hopefully, not long enough to be detectable. He settled back on his cardboard seat and prepared to wait.

What was that in her hand?

She held a long, green object, its surface reticulated in a deeper green, and speckled irregularly with dots of white. It was a summer squash—a zucchini—he realized. His mouth opened involuntarily as he realized her intent.

He had a full-on nosebleed now, not to mention a full-on hard-on. This was getting extremely uncomfortable—there was no question now that he'd need to find relief of one sort or another after leaving here. Kakashi felt blood beginning to trickle over his lips and down his chin, as his mask was completely soaked. A harsh, metallic taste filled his mouth, causing him to gag. He pushed his mask down, and wiped his bloodied hand on his pants. She wouldn't miss an old shirt of her dad's, he guessed as he silently pulled one from its hanger and used it to staunch the unremitting flow of blood. It would not be the most auspicious end to his career, he thought, to be found dead of blood loss in a former student's closet. It certainly was not the honorable end he had long planned.

He looked up to see Sakura caressing herself again, although it was clear from where he sat that she was still very aroused. She held the zucchini in one hand, and inserted much of the long object in her mouth, to moisten it, he assumed. She removed it, then ran her tongue along its surface.

_Lucky vegetable._

Then she moved her legs apart, and without hesitation, penetrated herself.

_Lucky, lucky, zucchini._

She moaned immediately, with a low feline sound. Kakashi nearly cried out with desire. This was unbearable.

"Fuck me. Please. Harder. Make me come."

The copy ninja tried to calm himself. It was one thing to spy on her masturbating. It was clearly another to be privy to a fantasy that involved another. Her husband, Fuyuno, most likely. Lucky bastard.

She was moving faster now, thrusting into herself with an urgency Kakashi remembered. The image of her riding him, with such passion and abandon overlaid itself on the sight now before his eyes. He felt the memory of her crescendos against him, how tight and warm she'd felt as she'd come over and over again. How she'd cried out his name--

"Kakashi!"

He had to have imagined that. With difficulty, he separated himself from his fantasy and tried to look at the sex-crazed kunoichi dispassionately. Tried.

"Come, Kakashi!" she cried out as she climaxed.

Without a moment's thought, the copy ninja moved his hands in rapid succession and got the hell out of there.

…o…o…o…o…

Someone had been with her in the room, Sakura was sure of it. She'd felt someone's eyes on her earlier—that was the reason she'd gone out onto the balcony. But she'd convinced herself she was being paranoid, that there was no one peering at her through the window. Minutes later, she'd felt a sudden, nearby burst of chakra— to whom it belonged, she couldn't tell, as she was otherwise occupied—but it wasn't civilian. Townsfolk typically weren't aware of their energy, and as a result, the chakra signature of a common person was chaotic and erratic. A ninja's, on the other hand, flowed in controlled patterns. She'd felt it for only a split second, just long enough to see that this person had near-perfect control of his energy. There weren't too many in Konoha at that level of ability. Or in other villages, for that matter.

There was only once place where her observer could have holed himself up. Sakura slid open the closet and pulled an overhead chain to send current through a naked light bulb. She pushed clothes aside, then dropped to her knees. The sealed top of a carton of her parents' belongings was slightly squashed, she noticed, as though someone had used it as a stool. She looked more closely and made out a faint, bloody handprint on its surface-- a man-sized imprint.

This was completely humiliating. Not only had he seen her pleasuring herself, _with_ _accessories_, but she was pretty sure that she'd called out his name. It was he she'd been fantasizing about, after all.

_You're supposed to hate him, Sakura. What kind of fucked-up person dreams of doing the man she hates?_

But she didn't hate him, not really—she hadn't lied to Tsuki. It just hurt to be around him. It hurt to compare the person she'd hoped he was with the dissolute wreck of a person he really was.

She leaned her head against the closet doorframe, and tried delusion on for size.

Maybe it wasn't him. Maybe she'd acquired a stalker in the short time she'd been in Konoha.

No. The closet smelled of him, of the unique mixture of the pine oil he used to protect his tools from rust, and the heady, decidedly masculine fragrance he gave off. No one else smelled quite like Hatake Kakashi.

Her mind began to churn as she considered just how she was going to pay him back. First, though, she needed to be absolutely sure it had been him. It would be even more humiliating to accuse him, in detail, of a crime he hadn't committed.

Sakura smiled malevolently. She'd just thought of the perfect test.

…o…o…o…o…

Kakashi woke up, refreshed, to a knocking on his door and a mind still slightly clouded by the wisps of a very pleasant dream. It was an unusual change for him—a typical morning for him was a cotton-mouthed, light-avoiding misery. But he'd decided to avoid the bars last night. More precisely, after looking in the window of the first establishment he came to and seeing the slim pickings that remained he'd decided to take a page out of Sakura's book. He wasn't desperate, after all. He'd rather satisfy himself than waste a few hours getting physical with the dregs of Konoha. He spent quite a while fantasizing about Sakura as he took care of his frustration, then sated, he'd considered her unrestrained words of passion. They didn't make sense. She hated him, didn't she? He'd been sure she was lying to Tsuki when she said she didn't. Up until that evening her every action had telegraphed her feelings toward him. She found him repugnant, and had made very clear that she saw the brief time they'd spent together as a huge mistake. And she'd been happily married, too. At least that was what he'd inferred from the way she'd referred to her late husband. Shouldn't Sakura be fantasizing about Fuyuno, not about a regrettable roll in the hay? Maybe Fuyuno had been a lousy lover. Or maybe it still hurt to think about him. But to still be thinking about a one-night stand? He should talk, he realized. He'd spent the better part of the night thinking of her, and had woken up with a dream of her still fresh in his mind.

Kakashi rolled out of bed and grabbed his navy blue yukata from the floor, wondering what engagement he had forgotten about. He glanced at his bedside clock before heading for the door. It was only 6 a.m. Perhaps some emergency had sprung up and he was needed for a mission. He opened the door to see Sakura standing there, alone.

"Ohayo, Kakashi. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No. Well, um…" He scratched his head as he stepped aside to allow her to enter, barely noticing that he'd stopped breathing when he realized it was she. He hadn't counted on getting reamed out so early in the day. "Where's Tsuki?"

"Still asleep. My neighbor's watching him." She handed him a thermos and a small, heavy loaf of bread. "I want to bury the hatchet, Kakashi. You don't deserve to be treated the way I've treated you lately. This is a peace offering."

"Peace offering?" Apparently he'd gotten out safely. A smile, unseen through his mask, spread slowly across his face. "Did you bake this?"

"Yes. I'm actually a pretty good cook. I learned how in Waterfall—we couldn't afford to eat out much. Would you like some coffee?"

This was a dream, he decided, a very pleasant dream in which the angry Sakura was gone, replaced by a gentler, more domestic version. This version was much more attractive than the pissed-off, castrating one he'd seen of late.

"Oh. And here's something else." She produced his copy of _Icha, Icha Pandemonium_ from her kunai pouch. His eyes lingered on her thigh as she did so. His dreams of her hadn't exaggerated a bit. Then he glanced at her book. It was still in one piece, remarkably. She must be serious about making peace with him, he thought. Ah, what was she saying?

"Tsuki stole it from you the other night. Apparently, he found it irresistible. Why don't you have some coffee and sweet bread? I think I know where this belongs."

"Will you join me?"

"I've already eaten." She entered his living room as he moved into the kitchen, in search of a mug, plate and knife. The bread was still warm and the irresistible scent of cinnamon filled the room as he unwrapped the loaf. He couldn't find any clean eating utensils, but decided it didn't matter. He ripped off a large chunk of the bread and stuffed it into his now unmasked mouth.

"Sakura, this is delicious," he said with muffled words, his mouth still full of the sweet bread. "What is it?"

"Zucchini bread."

"Zu—" He choked in surprise, then began coughing violently. "Sa—" Apparently, she couldn't hear him. He quickly unscrewed the top to the flask of coffee and took a large gulp of the beverage, then spewed the scalding hot contents across the small kitchen. He still couldn't breathe, and now his throat was burned, too. He slammed his diaphragm against the kitchen counter, and breathed in relief as the half-chewed clump of bread dislodged and his airway unblocked.

"Sakura?" Again, no answer.

What was that smell? He didn't have a fireplace.

He stepped into his living area to see a small blaze burning on the room's sole table. Sakura was nowhere in sight. Kakashi glanced at the bookcase, then back to the fire.

She'd immolated his beloved collection.

Kakashi extinguished the flames with a small water dragon, then went to sulk in the bathroom. There was no way he'd be on time to work today. To make things worse, he had a feeling she wasn't done with him yet.


	9. Chapter 9 Regret

_Disclaimer: Naruto and associated characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto. They are not my property!_

**A Book of Five Rings—Go Rin No Sho **

**Chapter 9— Regret**

"Revenge is sweet." That was the saying. Interestingly, Sakura found it wasn't true—at least not in this case. She had been looking forward to gloating a bit over the retribution she'd delivered to Kakashi, but instead of the sweetness she'd expected, she'd discovered only an ashen, bitter taste.

As far as clichés went, she'd lived another, this morning. She'd seen red. She hadn't thought it physically possible for a person to do so, but for several minutes she'd been awake, yet completely unaware of her actions. The moment Kakashi had begun to cough, her vision darkened as she was filled with a rage that had been all consuming-- then her mind had checked out and she'd run on autopilot. She'd planned to the second what she would do once her hypothesis was confirmed, and from the faint smell of smoke on her clothing, she guessed she'd succeeded. Yet she had no memory of burning his beloved smut collection.

Now she realized her actions weren't worth gloating over. She'd acted stupidly. Impulsively. She could have pretended Kakashi hadn't seen her. He wasn't the type to bring something that embarrassing out into the open. He was a secretive man, and although it had been clear from the bloodstain in the closet that he'd reacted to the spectacle, Sakura was sure he would never gossip about it. He'd probably just store it away with all the other perverted memories he'd garnered from life and literature.

She was so unbelievably stupid. If she'd pretended he hadn't seen her, she'd still be able to face him. She could have mustered the strength to pretend the incident had never happened. She had acting skills—every kunoichi did. She could have played her part until the humiliation receded to a manageable level, to a point where she could shove it to the back of her mind.

Sakura laughed aloud. Who was she kidding? She was still completely mortified by the thought of him watching her while she… did _that_. She didn't regret doing it—not by any means (a woman had needs, after all, and no one ever batted an eye when men talked about "relieving" themselves), but she was a private person, not some red-light-district performer. Yes, she was a kunoichi, but there was no way she would be able to act her way through future encounters with the closet voyeur. At this point in time, her personality was pretty well defined. She wore her feelings openly, as she always had. The only way to avoid showing them was to avoid interacting with others. But in the small village of Konoha, there was no way to prevent future run-ins with her son's teacher, and Tsunade had made it clear that reassigning him was not a possibility.

What would he think each time he looked at her? It wasn't just that he'd seen her. She was sure, now, that she'd cried out his name. What would he make of that? It must be obvious to him that she wasn't over him, at least not physically. Sakura smiled ruefully. Maybe he'd chalk it up to that—to his superior skills in the bedroom. She could imagine this would fit nicely into his self-image.

_Once you've had the man masked in black, you can never go back._

She wished, fleetingly, that she could slap the smug-looking copy ninja she'd summoned into her mind—a man who was, incidentally, masked in dark navy. Kakashi seldom wore black. She sighed as she tried to rein in the wild thoughts galloping through her mind. Her impulse control seemed to be almost non-existent.

In the past few years she'd tried so hard to lose the brashness, the flightiness that had dominated her personality in her early teen years. And she'd tried to shove down the spiteful inner voice that represented her petty side—the small part of her that rejoiced when others got what they deserved, and urged her to give others their due. Apparently she'd failed miserably at both of these tasks.

"Mom? Can we take a break? I'm bored."

Sakura gazed for a moment into the distance, surveying the angle of light filtering through the pale green leaves of the spring forest. She then shifted her attention to her silver-haired son. They'd been moving for a good four hours since their last break, she realized. He'd been quite patient to put up with her uncommunicative mood, seemingly sensing her need for quiet. Uncharacteristically, he hadn't asked too many questions about where they were going—her one word explanation, "camping," had been enough. It was frightening how easily lies rolled off her lips these days.

"Sure, Tsuki," she said with an apologetic smile. "Are you hungry yet? We should probably settle in for the night."

"Yes! What's for dinner?"

"Sukiyaki." She'd been planning a nice, home-cooked, _indoor_ dinner for tonight. But plans had changed. "We need mushrooms. Did you know it's morel season?" The boy shook his head.

"These are the type of woods where you can find them. Do you remember what they look like?"

"Of course, Mom!" Tsuki dumped out his backpack and ran off, laughing.

"Don't go too far!" Sakura called after him, then climbed an ash tree so that she could keep an eye on her mushroom hunting son. She settled onto a wide limb, and once confident that Tsuki was in no danger, she continued her silent self-castigation. She'd acted so foolishly this morning.

Worse, she'd backed herself into a corner. There was no way she could stay in Konoha now. A shinobi always thought first, then acted. Why had it always been so difficult for her to put this into practice? She should have thought more carefully before returning to Konoha in the first place. True, her parents needed a proper burial—but ninjas on assignment often missed events such as these. She should have stayed in Waterfall—the village leader would have done his best to make it possible. As the widow of a Waterfall shinobi, she had certain rights. Besides, she was an asset to them. Certainly she would have been able to renounce her Konoha citizenship and naturalize in her adopted homeland.

That would have been the practical thing to do. But she loved her parents, and they deserved a final gesture of respect. And she'd been thinking of Tsuki, as well—of his future, and of his considerable talents. He would have languished in Waterfall, or developed behavior issues. He was already teetering on the edge of brattiness— what would he be like if he were constantly bored? An image of her son as a four-year-old delinquent passed through her mind.

Now that Waterfall was involved in a full-scale civil war, returning there was out of the question. Besides, they'd be unlikely to accept a missing nin of Konoha. Only one option was open to her. Several, small unallied states bordered Fire and the other great nations. Some of these were fiercely neutral and did without the services of shinobi. She and Tsuki would settle in one of these places, change their identities and live as civilians. It would be hard on Tsuki—he'd have to set aside his training and the many abilities he'd been developing since birth. She'd have to give up the country and calling she loved. Maybe she was acting selfishly, but she didn't see any other options.

At least she'd planned their exit thoroughly, though in a compressed amount of time. She was wandering through the as-yet-unopened marketplace when she regained awareness of her actions. After several minutes of disorientation, she realized the recklessness of what she'd done. Just as quickly, she'd seen that she had no choice but to leave. She also realized the idea of leaving had been at the back of her mind for some time. It was clear Konoha was no longer the place for her.

The countries of Forest, Birds and Claw were all options, she'd mused that morning. Claw was closest, but Sakura was sure any tracker nin would expect her to go there. Tori no kuni seemed a safer option. It had cut off trade with other nations in recent years, and as it was poor in natural resources, it wasn't seen as a desirable country to invade. Apart from that, Bird's government was known to be fiercely xenophobic, though culturally and ethnically its people had much in common with neighboring lands. The government would be unlikely to participate in extradition, or even to allow bounty hunters within its borders. It should be a safe haven. It would take a day and a half to get there, but if she and Tsuki left immediately, they'd have at least a 24 hour lead on any pursuers. They shouldn't have a problem getting to safety.

Decision made, Sakura had stopped by the still-deserted administrative building and left a note on Shizune's desk. She worded it carefully, taking advantage of Tsunade's well-advertised aversion to vomit. If she thought Tsuki had stomach flu, there was no way she'd come around to check on him. It wouldn't be until the following morning that anyone realized they were missing. Kakashi would wonder where Tsuki was, but would blame his absence on the horrible mood Sakura was in. She was sure he wouldn't stop by to check on him—he'd probably spend the day in mourning for his beloved books.

Sakura had returned home, thanked her early-rising neighbor profusely for minding her still-sleeping son, and quickly collected their things. By seven a.m., they were ready to go, though Tsuki was not quite awake and a bit confused. He brightened up considerably, however, when Sakura offered to give him his first lesson in teleportation. He'd smiled in glee as pale pink petals swirled around the pair, delivering them to a location far outside Konoha's gates.

Now they were within twelve hours of the border to Tori no Kuni, exactly as she'd planned. Early tomorrow she'd take care of her appearance, then they'd head to the frontier. Sakura had realized her hair would be a problem, but hadn't wanted to wait for Konoha's drug stores to open to remedy the problem. Besides, with her luck someone would have noticed her purchasing hair color. But there should be walnuts in this area—that tree tended to cluster with morels and ash. She would collect some of the partially decayed fruit, and apply the dark liquid that oozed from the rotting husks to her hair. As long as she wore gloves (there were plenty of those in her first aid kit) it would be an easy task. It wouldn't be the most flattering color, but she could fix that, eventually.

She could hear Tsuki in the distance, jumping repeatedly from a boulder or low-hanging branch. He certainly knew how to entertain himself. She'd known how, too. It seemed to be a common trait among only children. Sakura quickly set up camp, building a small a fire ring, then dragging in a log to use as seating, and smaller branches for fuel. Soon a small fire was burning. She set up forked branches to use as a tripod, and began unpacking ingredients for the evening meal.

Tsuki returned just as the nabemono began simmering, his pack bulging with large, pitted mushrooms, his fists grasping clumps of spring onions.

"Negi! Perfect, Tsuki. Where did you find these?"

Sakura dumped out his pack on a rock and began to pick through the pile of mushrooms, slicing through each to check for insects, then throwing them into the pot.

"We can dry the rest of these, Tsuki. They'll taste even better, then. Were they easy for you to find?"

"It was the funniest thing. First all I could see was the forest floor. Then, wham! I saw them everywhere!"

"That's how it usually works. Mushroom hunting is good practice."

Tsuki giggled. "Are shinobi sent on mushroom-hunting missions?"

"Not that I know of. But it can help you get better at spotting an enemy. Did you learn anything about how to conceal yourself?" Sakura sliced the onions as she talked, adding short strips of the stem to the pot suspended over the fire.

"Sure. Lay low, make your edges uneven and wear a patchy color."

"That's the essence of it. You're a natural—" Sakura stopped speaking as she realized how much of her interaction with her son revolved around the topic of shinobi life. What would their life be like, starting tomorrow? Would he forgive her?

"This is for the best," she reassured herself.

"What?"

"I said, this is the best. Are you ready to eat?"

"Did you add shirataki?"

"No, I know you don't like it. I'll add some udon in a little while, though. Okay?" She ladled a portion of the rich, brown hotpot into bamboo bowls, then removed a pot of rice from the fire ring.

"Where's the egg?"

"Eggs aren't something you can carry easily when hiking, Tsuki. We'll have to do without them, tonight."

"Oh. The meat tastes better when you dip it in egg."

"Please don't talk with your mouth full, Tsuki. It's disgusting."

"Sorry, Mom." He focused on eating for a while, though Sakura saw clearly that he had a lot to say. He was quite the chatterbox tonight, perhaps as a result of their quiet hike.

"I thought everyone ate cup ramen when camping."

"We're not on a mission, and cup ramen isn't particularly nutritious. Its only advantages are that it weighs almost nothing and it doesn't go bad."

"Oh. So are we going back tomorrow?" he asked through mouthfuls of beef and rice.

"No. We have another hike tomorrow, but not as long as today."

"Where are we going?"

"Someplace you'll like. It's a flyway for birds-- more types than you could imagine. We should see plenty. Spring migration is underway."

_And our migration, as well._

"That sounds cool. And then we'll go home? Sensei said he was going to teach me about nature manipulation. He said he thought I might be lightning and earth, and maybe water, too."

Sakura raised an eyebrow. She hadn't learned those techniques until the year before her jounin exam.

The boy was quiet for a while, as though working up his nerve to speak. "I wish Sensei could have come with us."

It wasn't easy to lie to Tsuki, not even when it was for his own good. And despite her personal feelings toward Kakashi, Sakura found she couldn't smear him. It was clear that in the short time they'd been working together he'd grown significant to her son.

"It's important that you not get too attached to your teachers, darling."

"Why?"

"Because…because their job is to help you stand on your own feet. It's hard to do that if you're too dependent."

"Sensei said he was close to _his_ sensei."

"Was he?"

"He took him in when his parents died."

She knew almost nothing about her son's father, she realized. She knew Kakashi's father was Konoha's White Fang, who had died in disgrace. But she hadn't realized he'd been orphaned.

"When did he tell you this?"

"Yesterday. I won a bet. Ha! He was sure he would win."

"What was the bet about?" Sakura tried in vain to hide the note of annoyance in her voice.

"Oh. A fire drag—" His face colored, though this was hard to detect by firelight. "Um, just about a technique. He said I wouldn't be able to learn it—that no genin could."

"I see. Ready for some udon?"

"No. I'm stuffed."

"You look sleepy. Why don't you get ready for bed?"

Tsuki agreed with her, which Sakura found surprising. In the Fuyuno household, bedtime was typically a major ordeal. Tsuki was sure he was missing out on some great events that happened only after eight p.m. Convincing him otherwise was not possible.

He would forgive her, Sakura reassured herself as she tucked him into his bedroll and kissed him on the forehead. She settled onto a nearby log and gazed into the fire and allowed herself the luxury of letting her mind wander. Parenting was a series of decisions like this, she knew, quandaries in which the available choices were limited and poor in quality. The only thing one could do was make the best of things.

"Yuki, this is partly your fault," she said softly, a smile playing on her lips despite her somber mood.

Had he been there this morning, Yuki would have egged her on. As a consummate prankster, he loved her impulsive tendencies and the inner Sakura that sometimes manifested herself to him. She'd had no secrets from him—he knew all of her hidden, petty thoughts, and didn't think less of her for admitting to them. At least she was aware of them, he'd said. Everyone had thoughts they weren't proud of, but most people completely subjugated that aspect of themselves, to the point where they denied or even were unaware of their innermost feelings. The fact that she didn't do so was refreshing, he'd said. She had felt so free around Yuki—free from judgment, from self-doubt, and free to figure out just who she was. She'd shared with him everything about the horrible interaction she'd had with the copy ninja and the panoply of emotions she'd experienced since then. On several occasions, as they lay in bed, Yuki had even fantasized with her about the many ways she could torment Kakashi if and when she returned to Konoha.

Yuki had an unusual sense of humor—a finely tuned appreciation for irony combined with a passionate love for well thought out, subtle pranks. He was neither sadist nor masochist though, not by any means. Sakura knew that his reasons for helping her along with her little revenge fantasy had been completely selfless. He'd done it to ease the considerable pain he knew she still felt. They both knew she'd never go through with any of the ridiculous scenarios they'd planned out.

They both had learned from Yuki's mistakes. His tricks had never been malicious—they were never intended to openly humiliate another, or to demonstrate his superiority. They were done for fun, and because he could get away with it. He chose his targets carefully—the perfect candidate was a person with a good sense of humor and a strong sense of self—someone who was likely to laugh in response. Only occasionally was a prank intended to teach well-earned lesson—he'd described those as secret acts of justice. Yet on several occasions a prank had backfired horribly. One had led Yuki to the state of sadness Sakura had noticed when she first met him.

She'd been in Waterfall for two weeks, and was just beginning to sort out the chaotic mess that defined the healthcare system of the small village. They had only a few, poorly trained healers— low-ranking kunoichi trained in advanced first aid and the rudiments of herbology. Sakura had her hands full with meeting the emergent needs of the small hospital. At least twenty patients came in each day needing her specialized care. Despite this, she'd put together a training plan which would make true medics of the kunoichi assigned to her, so that they could eventually run the place. She'd already seen some growth among her new students. Their work ethic and eagerness to learn was astounding.

After a sixteen hour day, dead-tired and eager for a bath, Sakura was about to leave her office when a teenage boy came in, a masked bird struggling in his gauntleted arms. The kite's wing was broken, and as one of Waterfall's few messenger birds, it was imperative that the bird be brought back to flying condition. He'd left the bird with her without another word, and Sakura had sighed as she realized yet another deficiency in Waterfall's health care system. Apparently, the village was devoid of vets.

She'd quickly mended the raptor's wing, despite its struggling, then carried the now healthy, but even more agitated bird in her arms to the building she knew contained its aerie. Thankfully, the boy had left the gauntlets behind—the bird's talons were razor sharp, and even hooded it was able to deliver powerful and well-placed kicks. She'd struggled to carry the bird up several flights of stairs in the seemingly deserted building, until she reached what she assumed was the upper level. The stairs stopped here, anyway.

She'd moved from darkened office to office, finding nothing that resembled an aviary or other animal facility, until she came across a person sitting, head in hands at a paper strewn desk. He was too lost in thought to notice her approach, and it wasn't until he heard the flapping of the kite's wings against Sakura's face and her resulting exclamation of frustration that he looked up to see her standing before him, hair in disarray, the near-wild bird in her arms fighting heroically for its freedom.

He was not movie-star handsome. In fact, he was pretty average looking—not homely, but not a knockout. But every person has one best feature. For this man, it was his eyes. They were breathtaking—with pale blue irises surrounded by rings of sapphire, their perfect almond shape fringed generously with lashes any girl would kill for. But there was something sad about them, too, though he tried unsuccessfully to hide this as he greeted her.

Sakura had blushed as she realized she was staring at him, and had quickly cast her eyes downward to light on the papers on his desk. She had no idea why she was staring. She definitely wasn't interested. She was done with men, for a while, at least. Sakura felt this man's eyes still on her and froze slightly. She was sure he was looking at her and equally sure that her face was still red. There was no way she could look him in the eye, not yet. She tried to calm herself by focusing on the block of letters printed on the paper closest to her. They were hard to miss, as each letter was over a centimeter tall and written boldly. "It's a grille encryption," she'd blurted out, then blushed even more deeply in frustration. She still had the tendency to say inane things when flustered.

"What makes you think so?" She looked up to find him gazing at her solemnly. But the gaze itself was strange—his eyes scanned rapidly back and forth, as though he were following a ball moving at lightning speed.

"That message is from Tea, isn't it? That's their alphabet. They've used six by six grilles in the past."

He'd smiled then, and his face changed completely. A warmth emanated from him as he said, "I think between us we've just broken at least three laws. I guess I'll see you at the gallows. I'm Yuki, by the way. Is that a kite you're holding? Ah, you must be the new vet. I didn't think they'd found one."

How could he not know a kite when he saw one? Every village used them for long distance communication.

"No, I'm not a vet. I was just pressed into service. Could you help me find the aerie? This guy has about had it with me." She noticed the oversized magnifier on his desk and realized Yuki must be nearly blind. That explained the strange eye movement. He could probably see only a narrow portion of a typical field of view.

He was a strategist and cryptographer, and an expert in each of these fields, it turned out. He hadn't been puzzling over the code, he'd told her later, though she was right about its origin and method of cipher. Something much more immediate had been on his mind.

They'd clicked immediately, and a relationship developed between them that was of a quality Sakura had never experienced before. It was as though they had known each other for years—they fit together as precisely as a hand and its well-worn glove. It seemed that they were able to read each others minds, or perhaps they were simply attuned to each other's emotions. They were very similar, she'd realized. Both had been hurt and both were seeking a respite from the creaking, rusted squirrel cage of romantic relationships.

Yuki's last relationship had ended brutally, he'd said. Eventually, as their friendship developed, Sakura learned the whole story. As an outsider, she was a safe confidante. She wasn't likely to talk, and besides that, he trusted her. He spoke lovingly to her about his last romance. Jun and he were together for two years. It was a secret relationship: Waterfall strictly forbade extramarital relationships of any sort. Dating occurred infrequently, as arranged marriages were preferred. Any interaction took place under the strict guidance of a parent or chaperone, and the sanction of the temple elders. To fall in love, and worse yet, to consummate a relationship outside of marriage was almost unheard of. Transgressors were punished severely—by ostracism, loss of rank, or even expulsion from the village. Yuki wasn't betrothed, given his condition, but Jun was promised to another, and had been unsuccessful in ending the twenty-year-old commitment that had been made between families. So Jun and Yuki were discreet, meeting only occasionally, keeping two apartments, never staying the night, never acknowledging each other in public. What's more, they had promised each other they would confide in no one but each other.

Yuki had never spoken a word—not to his parents, colleagues nor anyone else. But apparently Jun had. Some people could not keep secrets, and Jun was one of these. Yuki didn't blame his lover, however. The ultimate fault, he believed, rested on his own shoulders. The two were torn apart because of Yuki's love of a good practical joke.

Yuki had been a golden boy, the student everyone looked up to and emulated. He'd been "graced" by fate, he'd told Sakura smirkingly —he was intelligent, and more importantly, he had the very rare gift of charisma. Charisma was a funny thing—looks seemed to have nothing to do with it. A handsome person might be totally devoid of charm, while a homely individual emanated something that caused others to flock to him. Yuki realized early on that he possessed some trait that caused others to want to get to know him. What's more, they wanted to be directed by him. They were eager to do his wishes. His teachers loved him, as well. Most were willing to look the other way when necessary, and most doted on him.

Yuki's prankster career was born with this realization. School was boring—terribly boring, and nothing enlivened the day like a well-thought out joke. The ball bearing trick was a classic. The sound of thousands of tiny metal balls hitting the ground in a soft metallic rain brought a smile to his face, every time he thought of it. It was like a small symphony. Or, with just a word, his classmates would simultaneously creep backwards from their teacher, who would turn in surprise from the lengthy formula he was writing on the chalkboard to find the room devoid of desks and students.

He did try revenge a couple of times, but only on behalf of others, and always privately. He targeted a teacher who had needlessly brought a classmate to tears over the fact that she'd forgotten her homework. Yuki did not advertise his actions to either victim or his classmates, and although the teacher seemed to learn a lesson, to Yuki it hadn't felt right. It wasn't his place to judge-- he was no vigilante. But like most students, he did indulge, from time to time, in fantasizing about the perfect comeuppance for particularly annoying teachers. There was no harm in fantasy, after all. And if others chose to make his dreams reality, that was outside of his control.

Despite his rampant pranksterism, Yuki excelled in school. It came easily to him, and although he was a bit lazy, he scored top marks on every test. He decided by age twelve that he wanted to be a strategist, and the development of vision problems at age fifteen did little to slow him down. He had a mind for patterns and manipulation of images, and could see a battlefield from multiple perspectives when told limited facts about it. Cryptography was the same. He didn't need to look at a document to break its code. A description of its layout, as well as the text of the cipher itself was enough. He was lucky, he'd realized, to have skills that he'd be able to use as his disease progressed.

And he was lucky, after taking his jounin exam, to be recruited to work in the Office of Strategy and Information. Officials there saw him as a golden boy as well, despite his rapidly declining vision. Yuki was careful, upon starting his new job, to take the lay of the land. He'd learned years before that his charisma did not appeal to everyone. There had been a few teachers and students, as well as a teammate or two, who had thought him glib and slick, or who were jealous of his easy way with others. There were also those who were envious of his intellect. He was well aware that things came a lot more easily to him than they did to many others, and he had always been careful not to rub it in. The behavior his teachers had seen as laziness was often just that, but at other times it was an effort on his part not to stand out so much. It wasn't good to be seen as blowing his own horn, not in a culture that valued teamwork above all else.

At first, Yuki was circumspect at work. Unfortunately, he was hailed immediately as a rising star, well before he'd submitted his first report. What colleague wouldn't feel threatened by something like that? Yuki didn't try to stand out, but of course, he did. His work was lauded by upper management. Yuki was sure that if the names had been removed, his work would have been indistinguishable from that of his colleagues. He'd tried his best to make it ordinary. Perhaps he should have aimed a little lower.

The Office of Strategy and Information, like every other workplace, had its share of politics and a smattering of incompetent leaders. These made up for their own insecurities by employing the time-tested practice of intimidation. Some, including Yuki's direct superior, were clearly masters of the art. Yuki's "team leader," Takei, was a virtuoso of the subtle jibe, and worked much harder at finding scraps of gossip and innuendo about his employees than at his actual job, which had something to do with management. Like the worst teachers, he was fond of scape-goating, as well. He was the perfect non-example of the good boss.

Yuki remained aloof from the office chitchat, as he was well aware of his supervisor's tendency to bully. The man rotated his attentions in a fairly orderly fashion: from week to week his target would change. The best tactic was to stay clear of him if at all possible. But there were some people he favored over others. Like all bullies, he preyed on the weak, on those who were less secure in themselves. While Yuki might be a target for sabotage, his supervisor was unlikely to ream him out or otherwise attempt to humiliate him. He knew Yuki would not let that stand. But others did, and it rankled to see his boss openly degrading others. A colleague better educated than most was called upon to fetch his daily coffee. Takei's preference changed from day to day and somehow the colleague never guessed right. An expert cryptographer, her tasks began to include transcribing his personal letters, picking up laundry and whatever else he could think of. Even worse, she suspected him of routinely stealing her lunch. Yuki heard her crying at her desk one day, and felt the least he could do was offer some moral support. She told him that Takei had called her in for a meeting with his own administrator, and had berated her for her inability to finish her work. The fact that he had assigned no real cryptography work to her was left unsaid, as he pulled out memo after memo he'd supposedly sent to her, inquiring after her projects.

What could she do? Nothing, it seemed. The paper trail was in Takei's favor. Yuki tried to distract her. Humor was the refuge of the powerless, after all. They joked about things she could do to make herself feel better. She could add methylene blue to his coffee, or accidentally drop his laundry in a puddle, or sign him up for an embarrassing magazine subscription. And if he kept stealing her lunch, she could always set him up. It would be funny to watch him eating dog food, wouldn't it? That made her smile through her tears.

Her smile was even wider the next day when she told Yuki what she'd done. Takei was in the restroom right now, she said, throwing up the meatballs in cream sauce he'd found in the refrigerator. She'd used spoiled cream and week old hamburger to make them. Yuki paled as she spoke. She'd actually gone through with it—taken it a few steps further than he'd suggested, actually. Then he realized they weren't alone. His colleague's back was to the door, and with his limited vision, Yuki was unable to see details clearly. But his sense of smell was intact, and he was sure he smelled vomit.

From that day, Yuki was targeted. Takei told him plainly he'd be taking him down. Within a month Jun's team was sent on an A-class mission. They never returned. Yuki couldn't mourn openly, but was successful in maintaining a façade. He broke down, however, when he found a condolence card on his desk. "I'm just getting started," it read.

"Yuki," Sakura said aloud, as she continued to stare into the fire. Life hadn't treated him well. She closed her eyes as she tried to imagine his face—the slightly crooked teeth and lopsided smile to match, the shining, dark hair and those magnificent, useless eyes—but her mind focused instead on the after-image of the flames she'd been watching so intently. She wondered how long it would take until she forgot his face. She had only a few photos of him, and they weren't very good.

_What was that?_

She heard the snap of a twig and realized she and Tsuki were no longer alone. She shouldn't be sitting facing the fire—she was blind to anything outside of its glare. The woods appeared pitch black beyond it. Sakura moved her hand slowly across her lap to her thigh, and carefully reached into her kunai pouch. She couldn't feel a chakra signature-- maybe it was only a squirrel or a small bear. There was no way tracker nins could have found her so soon.

"Did you save me any dinner?"

She knew that growling baritone voice. She rose, weapon in hand, and turned to face it. Then she began to laugh, but without the slightest trace of humor.

"I can't believe Tsunade would send you, of all people."


	10. Chapter 10 Persuasion

_Disclaimer: Naruto and associated characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto. They are not my property!_

**A Book of Five Rings—Go Rin No Sho **

**Chapter 10— Persuasion**

There was nothing less pleasurable than waking up in an ice cold bath. Though deep, the salmon pink tub (a relic of the age in which the apartment had been built) was small for a person of Kakashi's height. He felt a sharp pain in each of his knees as a result of sitting in such a cramped position for so long. The pain, and the wrinkled skin he noticed on the palms of his hands and feet were unpleasant (though hardly accurate) reminders of his increasing age.

It must be at least ten a.m., he thought as he rose from the tub. Tsuki was likely sitting in Iruka's office, coloring or playing with his ninja dolls, and Iruka was likely fuming. There was no towel in sight. He'd forgotten he'd thrown even the hand towels into the laundry. And the linen closet was empty, he realized with a sigh. Kakashi dug through the week's laundry for the least offensive smelling towel, and finding no suitable candidate, decided to use the sheet from his bed to dry off. It would be ineffective, but at least he wouldn't smell like a locker room, or worse, like sour milk. What was the source of that incredible smell? Ah, it was Tsuki's shirt, he realized as he rummaged through the hamper. He should have rinsed it out, he realized. He wadded it up and tossed it into his pack as he entered his bedroom. He'd let Sakura deal with her son's laundry.

Kakashi stretched as he rubbed his body down with his ersatz (and not particularly clean) towel. His legs were cramped from sitting so long and his neck was still stiff. He hadn't intended to fall asleep in the tub, but he'd been up much of the night before, and after Sakura's early morning visit, he'd needed a good wallow. The bathroom was the most appropriate place for that. Steaming hot water did a lot to soothe one's misery, though he was immediately reminded of the absence of his books when he saw his teak bathtub caddy standing forlornly in the corner. He loved reading in the tub. He loved reading anywhere, to be honest, but in the bathtub it was escapism at its purest.

Damn Sakura and her temper. It would take him months to reassemble his collection, considering that several volumes were now out of print, and Jiraiya was who-knows-where. He'd likely need to buy the rarer ones second hand. There was nothing like turning the pages of a virgin book. A used book, with its dog-eared pages, cracked binding and stains of unknown provenance just couldn't compare. And in the case of this particular series of books, unknown stains were a bit worrisome.

Kakashi quickly dressed and headed out, but not before grabbing the rest of Sakura's breakfast offering and stuffing it into his pack. His apartment was otherwise empty of food, and he was not likely to let a home-cooked meal go to waste, even if it did contain somewhat unusual ingredients. Besides, he reasoned, it would irk Sakura to no end if she came across him eating it. After destroying his beloved collection, she certainly deserved some form of payback.

As long as he was late to pick up Tsuki, he might as well stop in to see if any part of the series could be immediately replaced, Kakashi thought as he passed by Pink. It would only take a minute or two. He had no luck, however. The in-print books were on backorder, he learned, and had been for some time. It might be another month before they came in. The fact that the shop, the only purveyor in Konoha of Jiraiya's works, was completely sold out weighed heavily on him. Going without _Icha_, _Icha_ would be worse than going without alcohol. He had a physical and emotional need for his books that rivaled his need for sho-chu. He missed the weight of each volume against his thigh, and his fingers itched to hold a book the way a smoker seeks the reassurance of holding a cigarette. However, for a smoker, any brand of tobacco will do in a pinch. Feeling any narrow, white cylinder between ones fingers and at ones lips generally sufficed. Sadly, the books that Pink did have in stock could not produce the analogous sensation in Kakashi. They were simply crass, while _Icha_, _Icha_ was sublime, the perfect pornographic fantasy.

Kakashi sighed as he headed towards the academy, any residual bounce in his step completely flattened with the revelation that he might be without his books for quite some time.

…o…o…o…o…

Iruka looked up from the spreadsheet he'd been grappling with all morning, and rubbed eyes bleary from staring at a green and black monitor for hours on end. Technology, he'd learned lately, was not his forte. It would be so much easier to get out a ruler and pencil and draw up a chart by hand, but Tsunade had insisted that he learn how to use the clunky piece of machinery on his desk, which, she told him repeatedly, had not been cheap. The headmaster turned toward the window and started when he noticed Hatake Kakashi pressed against it, hand cupped over his brow. Why couldn't he use the door like everyone else?

Iruka raised the window and invited the copy ninja inside. Kakashi bounded over the sill gracefully, then leaned against the window frame, slouched in his habitual stance. He didn't speak immediately, however. Iruka scanned the small, visible portion of his face and noticed a subtle look of distraction.

"Is something wrong, Kakashi? You seem a bit… well, a bit out of it."

"Hmm? Oh. I lost something. I was just retracing my steps."

"You lost something in my office?"

"Er, no. I just remembered I needed to check something in Tsuki's file."

"Shouldn't you be with him right now?"

A moment passed before Kakashi answered. "He's at the training field. He's amazingly responsible for a boy his age."

Iruka pulled open a nearby filing cabinet and rifled through its contents until he located the thin manila folder assigned to the young genin. "Is everything going well with his training?"

"Wonderfully. He's making great progress-- surprises me daily." Kakashi made a show of reading through Tsuki's file for several minutes, before handing it back to Iruka.

"Did you find what you needed?"

"Yeah. I'd better be getting back." With a quick eye crinkle in lieu of thanks, Kakashi left rather hastily, a confused Iruka looking after him, and headed down Konoha's main street toward the training fields.

The headmaster was surprised to see Kakashi pass by his window again, not five minutes later. The boy, however, was nowhere in sight. It was unlike Iruka to leave the academy during school hours, and even more unlike him to trail a man as far his superior as a former anbu captain and technical specialist like Kakashi, but for some reason the headmaster felt compelled to do so. Strangely, he was able to shadow the copy ninja for a good five minutes before losing sight of him. Clearly, the man was preoccupied. Trail cold, Iruka headed to the training grounds, instead. Someone should be minding Kakashi's four-year-old student, he thought irritably.

But the boy wasn't at any of the training grounds. Maybe he'd headed home, and maybe Kakashi had been on his way to collect him. There was no explaining young children, Iruka had learned over his career. It certainly wouldn't hurt to check on him. He headed to Sakura's home, which was not that far from the academy, and was rewarded, as he climbed the front steps, by a small crash which emanated from inside the residence—a sure sign that someone was at home. He rang the bell, and waited, then rang it again.

A rather flustered-looking Sakura opened the door.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Sakura-chan, er, Sakura-san. But—and I know this is a strange question to ask—please don't be alarmed— but have you seen Tsuki?"

"Tsuki?" Sakura blinked her eyes several times before continuing. "He's upstairs. He came home sick just a little while ago." She laughed. "He gave Kakashi quite a scare, I think."

"Well, he shouldn't have left him unsupervised." He smiled at Sakura and was surprised to see her smile back at him, more broadly than usual. But there was something different about that smile, apart from its magnitude. Come to think about it, there was something different about her entire aspect, though he couldn't put his finger on it. Had she always played with her hair like that? Certainly she'd worn the zipper on her shirt a little higher—he'd have a prime view of her cleavage if she were to lean over slightly. Not that he'd look-- that would be completely inappropriate.

"Iruka-sensei?" What a sweet, melodious voice she had. It was sad to think of her put out to pasture as a young widow. Maybe that was the difference he'd picked up on. She was a fully grown woman, not the twelve-year old he'd taught so long ago. Certainly she'd have changed from the young thing he remembered. Marriage did that to a person.

"Sensei? Is there anything else? I was in the middle of putting Tsuki down for a nap." She leaned toward him slightly, greatly enhancing his view. Was she even wearing a bra?

"Oh! No. No, as long as he's safe. It's—it's great that you're back in Konoha, Sakura. We certainly did miss you."

"Really?" Was she batting her eyelashes at him? He had to be mistaken. He really needed to get out more.

"Well, take care, Sakura-ch-san." He hurried down her front path, nearly tripping as he did so. That encounter had been just too odd. It was always strange to see students years after he'd taught them. But rarely had he experienced anything like the electricity he'd just felt. Certainly he hadn't done anything to encourage it, had he? Lost in his thoughts, Iruka did not notice the large-breasted woman and her odd entourage of assistant and pig that blocked the path immediately in front of him. He barreled straight into her copious bosom and was rewarded with a fierce shove and a choice epithet.

In a moment, though, the Hokage calmed down enough to be civil, if still a bit frosty.

"Why are you outside, Umino? Shouldn't you be minding the store?"

"Y-yes, Hokage-sama. I was just checking on a student."

"Tsuki, I'd imagine."

"How did you know?"

Tsunade looked at him as though he were mentally impaired. "Sakura left a note for me early this morning." She pulled a face. "Virus, I'd guess. I hope she doesn't come back and give it to the rest of us. Why are you staring at me, Umino? Wasn't squeezing my breasts enough for you?"

Iruka blushed scarlet. He always had the worst time speaking to Tsunade-sama. She was the most imposing woman he'd ever met-- he felt emasculated around her. "The—the thing is, he went home sick today. He was training with Kakashi earlier…"

Tsunade raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "Maybe he was feeling better. He's very eager to learn, just like his mother. He's home now, though, isn't he?"

"Yes. I-- I just checked on him."

"Thank you for being so conscientious, Umino." She began to walk away, then turned suddenly to face him again. "But why were you checking on him? A sick child isn't that unusual."

"Because Kakashi appeared to have lost him." Iruka's fear-induced stammer disappeared with the unexpected compliment.

"I see. Hatake lost his four-year-old student."

"I'm not positive about that, but he was behaving oddly when he stopped by my office. After he left, he went to the training field, where he said Tsuki was, but then he hurried away in the opposite direction. When I went down to the fields, Tsuki was nowhere to be seen."

"But he's at home, now."

"Y-yes, Hokage-sama."

"And what time was this at? When did Hatake stop by your office?"

"Ten forty-five or so."

Tsunade crossed her arms and frowned. "Shizune, cancel my next appointment. There's a certain sensei I need to visit."

…o…o…o…o…

Door shut tightly behind him, and locked for good measure, Kakashi regained his normal, masculine form. He might have overdone it a bit with the flirting, he thought. He wondered if Sakura had any idea of her influence over men. Iruka had been on the verge of drooling, and all Kakashi had done was smile and show a little flesh.

She probably had no clue. That or she didn't care. The Sakura that had returned to Konoha was not the Sakura he'd taught, nor the Sakura of her eighteenth birthday. This Sakura was harder, and colder than he remembered, though he did recognize that this might only be toward him. It was easy to imagine the transformation from overachieving, A student to humorless workaholic, however. She'd always been driven.

She was different around Tsuki, though. There was a softness in her face when she looked at him that he remembered from years before. It was the same gentleness he'd seen her demonstrate toward Kankuro, Chiyo and other patients. Maybe the hatred was reserved only for him.

But she'd said she _didn't_ hate him, and minutes later she'd cried out his name. Maybe she was crazy. She'd always jumped from pole to pole emotionally. One moment she'd be talking pleasantly with Naruto and the next he'd be hurtling through space like human shot, courtesy of Sakura's inhuman strength and matching temper.

Her mental status was neither here nor there, however. He really didn't have the time to do an amateur analysis of her psyche. It was obvious that neither she nor Tsuki were at home-- he'd felt the absence of their chakra the moment he'd opened the back door, which, like the front, was no match for his skills. He now moved from room to room. She'd drawn the blinds in her bedroom, but even in the dim light he could see that the bed was made, and nothing seemed out of place. Tsuki's room was clean, as well, much cleaner than it had been the night before. He noticed the bins full of sorted toys which lined the walls of the small room, and peered inside several. These were old toys— a good twenty years of age, at least. Most were unisex, he saw, but a few were quite girly. These must be Sakura's old playthings—her parents had apparently saved them. There was little evidence that a boy called this room his own, but of course the pair had only been home a few days. There had been little time for shopping or redecorating. Kakashi opened the closet and looked inside. It was empty, except for a few dusty board games piled on the upper shelf, and several yellowed shoe boxes scattered on the floor. No boys' clothes were present—there were only a few wire hangers which hung at odd angles, entangled in each other. The closet looked, in fact, as though someone had packed up its contents in a hurry.

Kakashi returned to Sakura's room and slid open her closet. The dented box he'd sat on was still there, as he expected, as were the many outdated clothes he assumed belonged to her parents. But the side of the closet that she'd reached into the previous night was empty. He raised the blinds, noticing for the first time how unlike Sakura this room appeared to be. With its heavily carved mahogany furniture and overdone window treatments, it seemed the perfect room for someone's elderly great aunt. Kakashi rummaged through the dresser, which was filled to overflowing with clothes. Those were certainly not her under things, he thought as he pulled out a rigid foundation garment. These had "sixty-year-old grandma" written all over them. The thought of Sakura in a girdle and long-line bra was laughable.

But he didn't laugh. She was gone, he realized. They both were. A beam of midday light underscored this realization, as it revealed the pale pink petals that littered the floor.

Kakashi felt a pit open up in his stomach. Times had changed since Sasuke had left the village, years before. Search parties were no longer sent out in an "all is forgiven, we just want you back" mode. Tracker nin had a single goal: to destroy any weapons that might fall into the wrong hands. And as shinobi were ultimately weapons, Sakura would not be able to bargain over her fate should she be caught. It wouldn't matter that she was the Hokage's protégé, or that she was of value to the village. And she _would_ be caught—there was no question about it. Whether she fled to a country that was allied, hostile or neutral to Konoha, they would infiltrate its borders and find her. Tsuki would be kept alive—he was far too valuable, and would be considered her hostage. But it would scar him permanently to see his mother disposed of.

Kakashi's mind tripped involuntarily to the image of his father's death. To see a loved one killed in such a violent way—whether by his own hand or by another's-- was the ultimate in cruelty. He thought of his son, of the laughing, open boy he'd only just met, a child whose every thought seemed to be filled with wonder and joy. He wouldn't be the same person after witnessing something so devastating.

_But then he'd truly be his father's son. He'd be marked, just like you._

Kakashi shook the black thought away. He couldn't imagine a worse fate, and wouldn't wish such a life on his worst enemy, let alone his own child. Kakashi was still haunted by his father's suicide. His subconscious would present the bloody images when he least expected them. As a child, he'd had nightmares about the sight he'd witnessed almost every night. And that was with a parent (albeit an alcoholic parent) supporting him. Tsuki would be alone—horribly alone—if Sakura were neutralized. He'd be an empty shell, before long. Like Sasuke. A person incapable of loving, and being loved.

What was going through Sakura's mind, he wondered? Did she really think she'd be able to escape and start over? Didn't she realize the danger inherent to her actions?

Why? Why was she doing this?

He knew the answer, just as he knew what he needed to do.

He grabbed his pack and rapidly formed the seals of the boar, rat and horse. Moments later, silver birch leaves swirled with pink petals in a small, chakra-laden whirlwind.

Kakashi reappeared in the woods just outside of Konoha's fortifications, and paused to consider which route to take. Sakura was logical, and she also thought strategically. She wouldn't flee to an allied country, for fear of extradition. That ruled out Sand and the land of Waves, as well as Grass, Fire's newest friend. It would be incredibly dangerous to pass herself off as a native of a country hostile to Fire: she and Tsuki would be subjected to torture if their identities were discovered. Therefore, those could be ruled out, as well. That left the tiny, neutral countries. There were seven of those, three of which bordered Fire. It would be easiest to flee to the closest of these, but that would be where trackers would head first, in hopes of intercepting her. It was much more likely that she'd head for one of the other two, which were considerably farther away. The only problem was that they bordered opposite sides of Fire. It was past noon now, he saw as he scanned the sky. Assuming they'd left early that morning, they'd have a day and half lead on any trackers. That was just enough time to get to either country, assuming they traveled slowly, covering their tracks and stopping to rest. Genin or not, Tsuki was not far removed from a toddler. Traveling with him would be time consuming. But that was good news for Kakashi. Chances are he'd be able to overtake them quickly.

Claw, he decided, was the best bet. The copy ninja headed northwest, moving as quickly as possible while looking for signs that they had traveled this path.

Two hours later he realized he'd made a mistake. For some time there had been increasing distance between each broken twig and footprint he located, and those he could find had become fainter, as well. Kakashi came to the reluctant conclusion that the prints had probably been made some time ago—possibly as much as a week ago. It hadn't rained in that time, but the moist air around Konoha had probably kept the footprints nearby looking fresh. Here, to the northwest, it was somewhat drier, and the footprints were therefore less distinct. Kakashi sighed in frustration. Counting the time he'd need to backtrack, he was now at least six hours behind his quarry. Much as he disliked doing so, Kakashi realized it was time to call in the pros. He pulled out a kunai and nicked his thumb deeply enough to draw blood, then summoned his pack. A motley assortment of canines materialized almost instantaneously. All were happy to see him, and greeted him in the ecstatic manner that only dogs can. All but Pakkun, that is. Things hadn't been right between the copy ninja and his oldest dog for years.

They'd grown up together, and it had been Kakashi who had taught his oldest friend how to speak. And speak Pakkun did, over the years. The last gift to Kakashi from his father, Pakkun had helped the grieving Kakashi through some very rough years. But he was candid, as the best friends are, and over time his words had stung increasingly. At some point, although they continued talking, they'd stopped communicating. Their conversations grew increasingly superficial, and their friendship had suffered for it. As a summons, Pakkun was as loyal to Kakashi as he'd ever been. But he accomplished most tasks with a sigh and a look of resignation. Kakashi knew these subtle signs of frustration were not due to the quality of the infrequent work assigned to him, but because of the steady and intentional decline he'd seen over time in his master. But that was the price of the path Kakashi chosen for himself, and he'd faced the withering of their friendship stoically.

Now Pakkun looked at him expectantly, though without the gleam in his eye that had been there in years past.

"I take it you have a mission for us?" The rest of the pack barked and yelped in enthusiasm.

"I need you to track someone. Two people, actually. Do you remember my student, Haruno Sakura?"

"The _Floral Green_ girl?"

Kakashi smiled as he remembered the story Pakkun had told him of Sakura's mortification at their first meeting. "That's right. Do you remember her scent?"

"Apart from the shampoo? Sure. Has she been kidnapped?"

"No," the copy ninja said quietly. "She's left Konoha."

"When did you become a tracker nin again? I thought you hated killing your own people."

"This isn't a recovery mission." Pakkun waited for him to continue, but nothing was forthcoming. He looked at Kakashi dolefully as he asked his next question.

"And who else?"

Kakashi unbuckled his pack and pulled out the small t-shirt belonging to Tsuki.

Pakkun gagged as he smelled it.

"Is he still nursing? No, that's cow's milk. Kakashi, couldn't you have found a better clothing sample? I can barely make out his scent." He sniffed deeply, though reluctantly, then gingerly took the shirt in his mouth and presented it to the pack. The dogs began to bark excitedly as each smelled the object. Pakkun turned to Kakashi with a simple translation.

"They want to know when you had a pup. So do I, for that matter. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't know."

Pakkun gazed at his leader with a combination of wonder and disgust. "So. You unknowingly impregnated your student, who has now run off as a missing nin?"

"That's about it."

"You amaze me."

"Yeah. I'm something else."

"You have the morals of an alley cat." That was about as low of an insult as a dog could make. "How could you not know you'd gotten her pregnant? Isn't that the point of mating?"

Kakashi shrugged his shoulders as he contemplated the pack leader's black and white view of the world. It wouldn't be worth explaining the nuances of human sexual relationships to him again. The pug had experienced severe cognitive dissonance when Kakashi told him that humans often mated when the female was not in estrus.

"She didn't tell me, Pakkun. She ran away. She had only just returned to Konoha."

"But you somehow ran her off again, didn't you?"

He nodded slowly. "It wasn't intentional. Tsuki—"

"Your _son_?"

"Yes. Tsuki was assigned to me as student, and he stole my book—"

"You were reading your _porn_ around a pup?"

"Don't look at me like that. I wasn't reading it when he was nearby. He stole from my apartment."

"Sakura ran away because her son borrowed an explicit book?"

"No. Things just snowballed from there."

"Do you really think she'll come back with you?"

"They'll kill her if they realize she's gone missing."

"Understood." The pug rose and barked to his crew, who immediately stood at attention. "Is there a general direction you'd like us to head in?"

"Southeast of Konoha-- probably in the direction of Tori. I appreciate your help, Pakkun. And the boys'."

"I know. And so do they." Pakkun turned to look the copy ninja squarely in the eye. "Kakashi, assuming you find her—how will you keep her from running away again?"

"I don't know, to tell the truth. She's not thinking clearly now. She wouldn't have left if she fully understood the danger she'd put herself and Tsuki in. Maybe I can help her see that. If she'll listen."

"So what's he like?"

"Tsuki? He's… amazing. A ball of energy, and whip smart."

"I can see your ego's been gratified. He's a chip off the old block, eh?"

"You can see for yourself. I had been hoping to introduce the two of you sometime soon."

"I look forward to it." Pakkun barked out another sharp order to the pack and they headed out quickly.

An hour later, they picked up the trail. Kakashi's second guess appeared to be an accurate one—the trail headed to the southeast, toward Tori no kuni. He'd be able to make good time now. All of the chores of tracking fell on the pack's shoulders-- Kakashi was merely along for the ride.

At six p.m., as the sun was sinking in the sky, the pack halted and sat silently, as Pakkun alone continued on ahead. He returned quickly, a victorious gleam in his eye.

"Found them. Their camp is three kilometers east of here." He paused to scratch the skin at the scruff of his neck. "He looks a lot like you, Kakashi." The diminutive dog barked another order to his team, who circled around the copy ninja.

"On behalf of all of us, don't screw this up, Kakashi. It's pretty obvious this is important to you."

The copy ninja was silent as he leaned in to stroke each animal in thanks—one behind the ears, another below the chin, a third on that special spot halfway down his back. He then shifted his pack on his back and headed east. His footfall was almost silent as he approached the camp, but Sakura was too busy preparing dinner to notice the slight rustle of leaves he made. He heard Tsuki off in the distance, whooping wildly. He imagined Sakura's attention was fixed in that direction.

His stomach grumbled as he watched her melt a small block of tallow in the pan hanging over the fire, which she followed with thin slices of well-marbled beef. Sukiyaki, he guessed, would be the outcome of her efforts. He loved sukiyaki, though he couldn't remember ever eating it while camping. Too much work. Cup ramen was much easier. But the thought of the multiple, intermingling flavors and textures of beef, konnyaku, negi and tofu made his mouth water. Perhaps he should announce his arrival immediately. He immediately thought better of it—it would be wiser to wait until nightfall, when Tsuki was sleeping. Kakashi had a feeling it would take quite a long time to convince Sakura to return. He would need to be completely frank to have any hope of convincing her-- a wakeful four-year-old would only get in the way.

The copy ninja climbed a tree in view of the campsite and settled in to wait. Nearly immediately, Tsuki bounced back into the camp, pack filled with what appeared to be mushrooms. Sakura cried out delightedly and immediately set to work cleaning them. That was going to be one fine dinner. Kakashi's stomach cried out again, in protest of his inaction.

What a beautiful family they made, he thought as the pair sat down next to each other to eat. He couldn't hear their conversation, but as his Sharingan did allow him to read lips, he took full advantage of it. She was so gentle with the boy, Kakashi noticed, just as she'd been while bathing him the night before. Even when she admonished him she set her anger aside and did her best to discipline and teach, not punish. She answered his questions patiently, despite the fact that they continued at rapid fire. He laughed softly as he recalled how worn out he was after only ten minutes of such an onslaught. His own mother had always brushed his questions aside. She had a talent at cutting conversations short, which seemed to grow in strength after his father died. Sakura was quite different. She listened to her son the way one would listen to an adult—with respect. No wonder Tsuki was such a happy, well-adjusted child.

Kakashi unknowingly held his breath when the conversation turned to him. There was no denying that it pleased him greatly that Tsuki had thought of him. He was sure, though, that Sakura would say something unkind. Perhaps she was about to share some child-appropriate explanation for her decision to move them again. She had every right to do so, after all. She had every right to despise him. But she surprised him again. Her words, he knew, were intended to let Tsuki down easy, and it was clear that she had formulated them based on personal experience. He had let her down. Repeatedly. And as a shinobi, Tsuki did need to learn that relationships were fleeting. It didn't serve one well to become overly dependent on another.

But the words still stung.

He'd known this morning what he had to do. Perhaps he'd known from the beginning. He didn't want to do it, but if it was the only way to get her to come back to Konoha, he was willing.

The boy was yawning and acceded easily to Sakura's suggestion that it was bedtime. Perhaps, Kakashi realized as she tucked him into his bedroll, he shouldn't be an onlooker to such an intimate scene. The feelings Sakura had toward her son were almost palpable, even at an extended distance. He continued to watch, however, as she returned to her seat by the fire, first poking the coals, then shifting the pans containing dinner to a somewhat cooler area. Then she sat, her back to a log, knees pulled up almost to her chin, shins encircled by her arms. He saw sadness flicker across her face, then a half-smile, as she stared into the flames. It was clear that she was lost in a bittersweet reverie.

She really was beautiful, Kakashi thought as he watched light and shadow dance across her face, highlighting first her eyes, then her unusual hair, then the satin skin of her slender legs. It was no wonder that Iruka could barely restrain himself in her presence. Although, of course, it hadn't really been she. Kakashi decided to gloss over the questionable undertones of that near encounter. He gazed at Sakura again and wondered what had happened in her life to bring her such a mixed memory. She was quietly laughing, but her eyes were bright and sad, as though she were on the verge of tears. He knew so little about her—the mother of his child was a near stranger to him.

He had to stop thinking things like that.

He jumped down from his perch, landing with cat-like grace, and stalked silently to the campsite. He was confident she couldn't see him, as her eyes were over-stimulated by the light from the fire. He kept his chakra masked and studied her once more. She was oblivious to his presence. Damn, he was hungry. Kakashi leaned over and picked up a small twig. He rolled it in his fingers for a moment, then snapped it in half.

Sakura looked up immediately, and Kakashi smiled as he saw her hand creep slowly but steadily toward her kunai pouch. He saw a myriad of emotions traverse her face as she glanced at the sleeping Tsuki and then beyond the fire. He could almost hear the adrenaline coursing through her veins. A little humor should defuse the situation.

"Did you save me any dinner?" Of course, he was only half-joking. He was ravenous, and he knew there was plenty left.

She turned toward the sound of his voice, and her eyes widened as he moved closer to the fire.

"I can't believe Tsunade would send you, of all people."

"What makes you think she sent me?"

"I'm missing. You're anbu. Don't deny it. Everyone knows that's a life-long commitment."

"Tsunade didn't send me, Sakura."

"Oh? Are you freelancing? I didn't know you were a part time bounty-hunter." Her voice was a near whisper, but the anger was evident nonetheless.

Kakashi did not answer, instead moving past her to inspect the pans resting on the ring of stones surrounding the fire.

"You don't mind, do you? I haven't eaten since… well, since about six a.m., I guess. Haven't read anything since then, either." He looked at her meaningfully.

Sakura's blush was evident even in the red-tinged light of the fire.

"Don't change the subject, Kakashi. Answer me."

The copy ninja found the half-full bowl abandoned by Tsuki and spooned sukiyaki into it, then seated himself by the fire, his back towards her.

"This really smells good. Are these morels?" He picked up a pair of hashi and began to dine, groaning softly in appreciation as he took his first bite. "Wow. It _is_ good. You weren't kidding when you said you learned how to cook."

"Is this some type of torture? If you're going to kill me, can't you just get on with it?"

"Mmm." Kakashi motioned with his hand to indicate he couldn't talk.

"Why are you here?"

"Why do you think?" He stuffed another large piece of perfectly simmered beef into his mouth. She really should have cut the pieces a bit smaller, he thought as he attempted to swallow it.

"To take Tsuki back."

Kakashi choked on his food for the second time that day. This time, however, Sakura was gracious enough to pat him soundly on the back. He coughed, then breathed deeply before continuing.

"Do you really think that little of me?"

She didn't answer. He raised his mask and turned to face her.

"Sakura, I came to convince you to come back with Tsuki. Right away. Before they realize you're gone. You have no idea—"

"We'll be safe once we get to Tori."

Kakashi laughed. "Konoha has at least ten agents—ten that I know of, and my knowledge is limited—placed in Tori right now. It will be no problem for them to arrange your disappearance."

Sakura's eyes widened as she looked at him.

"You're lying. Tori's borders are closed."

His eye creased in a smile as he picked up his rice bowl. "Just how were you planning on getting in?"

"I don't believe you. There's no way Konoha could have that many agents--"

"Think, Sakura. What do I have to gain by telling you this?"

She was silent.

"If I really wanted to 'take Tsuki back,' as you said, wouldn't it be easier to stand by and do nothing?"

"What do you mean?"

"If he came back to Konoha alone, what do you think would happen?"

She thought for a moment. "You'd be together. The elders would award custody to you as his only blood relative. Assuming you told them."

"So why would I come here?"

"Do you care about him?"

He was silent as he weighed his words. She had to have realized by now that he did care. He had nothing to lose by confirming this. "Yes, Sakura, I do."

"Then help us. If you really care about him, help us. Help me. Throw them off the trail."

"Sakura, you know that wouldn't work. If you do this, they'll kill you in whatever way is most expeditious. Tsuki might witness it. Have you considered that?"

"We won't stay for long. We'll move on to Mizu no kuni, or across the ocean. Konoha's reach doesn't extend that far."

"This is crazy. Why are you doing this?"

She looked at him incredulously. "Because of you."

He knew that, but it was still difficult to hear her say it.

She continued, "Every time I run into you, I'm humiliated in some way. You're in my bed when I get home from work. You're in my closet, spying on my most private—"

"That was a mistake. I didn't mean—"

"And even when you're not there to humiliate me, I'm constantly reminded of the ways you humiliated me in the past. Tsuki is with _you_, after all, every day. And I just don't understand why you're suddenly interested in him."

"Suddenly? Sakura, I didn't know he existed less than a week ago. Of course it's sudden. You never bothered to tell me! What do you think it's like to find out—"

He was interrupted by the sound of mirthless laughter.

"You don't even remember, do you? I knew you were a drunk, but I had no idea you were having blackouts, too."

"What are you talking about?" Frustration and anger was evident in Kakashi's voice.

"The threesome five years ago? Does that ring a bell?" Sakura glanced apprehensively at Tsuki, who thankfully appeared to be dead to the world, mouth wide open, a small cascade of drool running down his cheek.

"Threesome?" Kakashi scratched his head. He'd only been involved in a couple of those. "Enlighten me, Sakura, please."

"One of the girls was cheap. A slutty bleached blonde, like the woman from the other night. I think she was a bar hostess. I never saw the other one."

"What has this got to do—"

"_I tried to tell you, Kakashi._ I had just found out, and I was in a state. I _needed _to talk to you. But you shut the door in my face. You told me that there was nothing between us— that I should just forget it ever happened."

"And then you left."

Kakashi held his head in his hands. She'd tried to tell him, but he'd pushed her away. Rejected her yet again. No wonder she'd burned his books. He was lucky she hadn't castrated him.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I don't remember. I didn't know. "

She turned away from him in disgust. "Well, now you do," she said softly.

"Sakura. The reason I'm here is because you _have_ to come back. Fleeing Konoha won't work. You know that. I know you do. The reason you've left is because of me. So I'll remove myself. You won't have to talk to me—I'll make sure we never cross paths. I'll resign as Tsuki's teacher —"

"She won't let you do that."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. I've asked her twice. She was adamant."

She'd asked him twice. That was another slap in the face. But it wasn't surprising, Kakashi realized.

"I'll convince her."

Sakura snorted. "Good luck with that. I think I know my shishou pretty well."

"You're right about the alcohol," he said quietly. "I'll tell her. She won't want a drunk teaching Tsuki."

Sakura did not reply. Instead, she walked over to Tsuki and knelt next to him, carefully arranged his bedroll around him, and placed a kiss on his forehead. When she turned back to him, Kakashi saw a look of resignation in her eyes.

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"You're right. This was a stupid idea. They'll catch us."

"This is the best thing to do, Sakura."

She laughed bitterly. "Sometimes I wonder what I did in some past life to be living this one. It was because of you that we left-- but I can't get rid of you. You're like something disgusting stuck to the bottom of my shoe—you just won't go away. That's karma, I guess—the law of cause and effect." She was crying, he saw. He reached out a hand to touch her in some neutral place, her shoulder, perhaps, but she swatted it away angrily.

"Don't touch me, Hatake. Make yourself useful and break down the camp. Let's get the hell out of here."

It was seven a.m. by the time they returned to Konoha, but the village was already awake. It would have been much better, Kakashi thought, to have arrived before sunrise, but traveling with a small child had slowed them down considerably. Tsuki had awoken half-way through the journey and had been elated to see the copy ninja, but he'd refused to be carried by either adult. Two hours later he'd demanded breakfast. Kakashi knew better than to offer him the remaining zucchini bread (he'd wisely not mentioned its presence in his pack), and as the only remaining food Sakura carried was uncooked rice, they'd stopped for a quick meal of fresh-caught fish.

It would have been better to avoid the gate and instead teleport directly to their respective homes, but after the round trip hike, both Kakashi and Sakura lacked the chakra needed to do so. The guards looked occupied, however. A number of traveling merchants were lined up at the gate, papers in hand. Processing them would take some time. An unfamiliar guard was already waving their party through, having noticed their leaf insignia.

"Crisis averted," Kakashi thought as they passed through the gate. He smiled. He was sure Sakura would agree to another "sick day" for Tsuki. It was obvious they all needed some sleep. And Genma, he'd suddenly realized, might just have a copy of _Icha, Icha_ to loan him. He turned to Sakura, about to make the suggestion that she call in sick again, when Kotetsu approached them. He was still saddled with gate duty after all these years, Kakashi saw. He wondered just what the long-time chunin had done to annoy the Hokage.

"I was just on my way to find the two of you. Tsunade wants you in her office immediately. And by the way, she sounded pissed."


	11. Chapter 11 Entertainment

_Disclaimer: Naruto and associated characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto. They are not my property!_

**A Book of Five Rings—Go Rin No Sho **

**Chapter 11— Entertainment**

Tsunade recognized her own limitations. She wasn't a strategic genius like Shikamaru, or gifted socially like Naruto. She was strong, yes, strongest in Konoha, and the best medic the village had ever produced, but a key part of being an effective shinobi was recognizing ones weaknesses. It was not an understatement to say that she wasn't the first person you'd call on when needing to solve a puzzle. It didn't require genius, however, to piece together what had happened the day before.

Tsuki had gone missing, Kakashi had gone looking for him, and he, his son and Sakura had left the village without passing through its gates. She was sure about the latter. She'd had the village searched thoroughly, its exit logs checked and sentries questioned, and had even taken it upon herself to search Sakura's home. The absence of clothing and backpacks provided confirmation of their flight, as did the several petals and leaves she found on the master bedroom floor. Sakura had been agitated, true, but Tsunade hadn't expected she would take things that far. The fact that the trio had just returned relieved her greatly, and affirmed her confidence in the copy ninja. It would have been excruciating to order the death of her apprentice, but there was no way as Hokage that she would have been able to let the pair leave. Tsuki was far too valuable, although the village had yet to realize this.

Tsunade regarded the pair of shinobi in front of her. They were standing some distance apart, and the difference in the way each carried himself almost made her laugh aloud. Kakashi stood in his habitual slouch, hand in pocket, a laconic look on the visible portion of his face. Interestingly, she noted, his book was nowhere in evidence. She gave a small, satisfied smile. Apparently he'd heeded her warning about reading it in Tsuki's presence. Sakura, on the other hand, oozed terror. She stood rigidly, eyes darting around the room, a blush already creeping into her cheeks. She hadn't changed much in the intervening years—she still wore her emotions on her sleeve. Tsunade returned her gaze to the papers on her desk, as she let the pair stew in their own juices for a while. Though she might not be a genius at interpersonal relationships, she did know a thing or two about executive leadership. The longer she made them wait, the more tense they'd grow and the more likely they'd be to trip up in their explanation.

Not that their explanation mattered. As she was already certain of what had happened, what mattered now was for her to get some enjoyment out of their predicament. The hokage's job was much as she had expected when she'd turned it down years ago. Seemingly endless paper pushing was interspersed with rare visits from other heads of state. She found neither activity compelling. She was practicing as much medicine now as she'd done years before when she was hemophobic and spending her days and nights gambling and drinking. And being the strongest ninja in the village did not matter a whit when one's most labor-intensive task was picking up the sheaves of documents that mysteriously appeared on her desk each morning. Tsunade had figured out early on that in this job, she'd have to make her own fun.

_So, let the entertainment commence._

"It's good to see you both. I stopped by yesterday to see how Tsuki was doing, but to my surprise, you didn't seem to be at home."

Sakura's eyes widened as her skin blanched.

"Shishou, I can explain. Tsuki was feeling better fairly early in the day, so we went to the park—"

Tsunade's eyes narrowed as she moved in for the kill. Sakura really should know better—she'd left herself wide open.

"Where they ran into me," Kakashi interrupted, eliciting a frown from the village leader. Unlike Sakura, Kakashi was an accomplished liar. He'd be much less fun to toy with, as he understood when a story should be left vague, and where to embellish. She looked at the pair, and saw the look of surprise combined with relief that Sakura shot at Kakashi. "I suggested that if Tsuki were better, he really should be training with me. Then he insisted we go camping, and I didn't feel right going without Sakura, so he ran off to ask her. Finally, I had to beg her to come along." Nice. He'd provided the reason for going back to her place, without overtly identifying it as such.

"Is that so?"

"And it's my fault she didn't notify you before she left. I thought you'd call her back to work, and I didn't want a heartbroken four-year-old on my hands. I hope you'll forgive the indiscretion." He bowed slightly as he spoke.

Tsunade's frown was joined by a faint creasing between the brows. It wasn't a bad lie, she decided begrudgingly, considering he'd probably made it up during the short walk to her office. She stood and opened the double door of her office, smiling and waving to Tsuki, who sat in the anteroom, drawing. Toys from his pack littered the ground, she noticed. The smile remained in place as she returned to her desk and rearranged a stack of mission scrolls.

"But tell me, Sakura, why on earth did you pack so heavily for a simple overnight trip? Tsuki's bag is positively stuffed."

"Um," the girl blushed, and Tsunade's smile grew slightly wider and a bit more feline. "He's going through a stage where he tries on at least seven outfits each morning, and I know I shouldn't humor him, but it was just easier to let him pack whatever he wanted."

"Oh." She'd expected a lame "Be prepared," "Better safe than sorry," or similar. This explanation reeked of the truth. "Well. Good to know you're safe and sound. I don't know what the village would do if something happened to you."

"Crisis averted," was the message written clearly across Sakura's face. Kakashi's was inscrutable.

"That's not why I called you here. Take a seat, both of you." She paused as the two positioned themselves by her desk. "I have a mission for you."

"For Tsuki and Kakashi? That will be their first." Strangely, Sakura's reaction was neutral. She'd expected distress.

"No, no. For the three of you." Tsunade kept her eyes on Sakura as she spoke, and noted the slow disintegration of her student's half smile.

"I don't understand."

"After you told me about the kunai that fragmented in your patient's leg, I reread some intelligence reports from the past few months." Actually, that wasn't quite true. She'd been too busy to do more than peruse them when they'd first arrived, and had set them aside for a less busy time. "There have been reports in the other three nations about similar weaponry—shuriken that explode after entry, kunai with ceramic blades, guided senbon-- things that we wouldn't expect our friends in Rock to be able to build, given their limited technology."

"The people of Rock are masters of mineral-based skills." Kakashi, she knew, spoke from hard experience. "It seems plausible that their technology in that vein would continue to develop."

"But they have never been masters of chemistry or the more complicated technologies. Exploding tags are not their thing, and they wouldn't know a radio tower from a tree-- it's clear that they are getting help from someone. Your job will be to figure out whom, and depending on the size of the network, either report back or take them down."

"So my son's first mission is going to be class _A_? You can't--." There was an edge to Sakura's voice that the hokage sought to soften.

"That's part of the reason I've placed you on the team, Sakura. The three of you will be under deep cover, and I expect it will take months for you to infiltrate the enemy and gather the information we need. It wouldn't be fair to expect your son to be separated from you for such a long time—not at his age.

"But why Tsuki? And why me? I can understand Kakashi-- he's ANBU, after all. He has the skills for espionage and sabotage. I have a completely different, and in this case, inappropriate skill set. On top of that, I haven't been in the field for years, and Tsuki's not ready."

"I hope you're not questioning my decision-making skills, Sakura." She gave her student a withering look. "I've thought long and hard about this. You need the experience if you're going to be taking on a leadership role at the hospital, and we need a team that can pass for non-ninja. A family unit is the safest way to accomplish that."

"Family?" Tsunade noted the surprise in Kakashi's voice.

"Yes." She could sense some unidentified emotion—rage, perhaps—building up in Sakura.

"Are you honestly telling me there is no other team you could assemble that would pass for a family? What about Kurenai and her son? He looks just like her. All you would need to do is add another jounin--"

"You will _not_ address me in that manner, Sakura. Kurenai's son is still only a student at the academy, and he's not expected to graduate any time soon. We need all three members of the team to be at least genin-level, and from what I've heard about Tsuki, he's fast approaching chunin."

"How about a teenage "son" or "daughter," then? Someone already on a team—someone with more experience?" It was almost as though she were drowning-- she was reaching for a twig, a thin branch, anything that might prevent the inevitable.

"You're testing my patience." Tsunade sighed before continuing. She rarely went out of her way to explain her reasoning to her inferiors. But she'd always had a soft spot for Sakura, although in the intervening years she'd forgotten that the young kunoichi's tenacity was a double-edged sword. The young medic could be quite a bulldog when things weren't going her way. "I considered that, of course, but there aren't any teams where sensei and student are similar enough in coloring and build to appear to be related, and there are several reasons why it wouldn't work to pull together a new team. This is a long-term mission, and it would be highly disruptive to dissolve and reconstitute two or more teams for the sake of one mission. Besides, you and Tsuki have a deep bond that would be almost impossible to mimic, and as for Kakashi, he's related by blood. Tsuki is the spitting image of him—apart from the hair, which really doesn't matter, his skin tone is the same, his nose is the same, and I'd wager that Kakashi even has those cute little dimples. Although the reality is far from it, you three _look_ like a family, and I know you'll be professional enough to pretend to be so for the duration of the mission.

Her cheeks were flaming now, Tsunade saw, though Sakura hung her head in an attempt to hide it.

"Hokage-sama, does this involve sending us to Earth Country? That would up the mission to S class. Even with Tsuki's skills, he's not ready for that." Tsunade rarely heard concern in Kakashi's voice when taking on a mission, but then again, apart from his work with team Kakashi, she'd only assigned him solos. It was a sign of his skills as a leader to be showing concern at the entry of his team into a country that had held enemy status for over twenty years. She laughed inwardly. Every now and then she saw a flicker of the consummate professional she'd once thought capable of leading Leaf.

"I'm well aware of that, Kakashi. I don't expect you'll need to enter Earth. Fewer than half of the attacks were committed by Rock forces. Those happening in the south of the country were not, and the attacks in Wind and Mizu don't appear to be Rock related, either. They are certainly players in whatever is going on, but I don't think they are the source of the weapons, and certainly not the masterminds."

Sakura was growing increasingly agitated, Tsunade noted. She saw Kakashi's glance flicker over his former teammate before he spoke again.

"Permission to speak freely, Hokage-sama?"

"Granted."

"I urge you to reconsider this assignment. I'm not the right person for it."

Tsunade raised her eyebrows in amazement. "I'd love to hear your reasoning."

"May we speak privately?"

"No. Whatever you have to say can be said in the presence of your teammate. As her son's welfare is involved in all of this, she has more rights than most in that regard."

"It's necessary that I resign as Tsuki's sensei."

"Go on."

"I'm not fit to be his teacher."

"You have got to be kidding. _I_ am the one who decides that, not _you_." She slammed her fist against the desk, slightly marring its surface, then paused for a moment to assess the situation. This tied into their absence yesterday, she quickly realized—it was probably the bargain they'd struck to get Sakura to return. Tsunade quickly decided that to regain the upper hand in this conversation, it would be necessary to play the card she had up her sleeve. "Before you continue, let me ask this—does your request have anything to do with your drinking binges?"

He was genuinely shocked by this—though she'd never seen him experience such, the emotion writ in his eye could be nothing else.

"You knew?"

"For years. It's my job to know my people. I've made it a habit to get on the good side of the barkeepers in town—they keep me apprised." She looked at her subordinates in turn before continuing.

"My word is final. I've assigned the most appropriate team for this mission, and it will begin tomorrow."

"Tsunade-shishou—"

"This is what you wanted, isn't it, Sakura? A chance to spend more time with your son? And surely you want to advance at least to special jounin, don't you? Despite your impressive work in Waterfall, you won't be able to run Konoha's hospital without that rank." She reached for the dark, wooden box that stood next to her desk and handed it to her student, and the mission scroll and associated paperwork to Kakashi. "You'll need this. The quartermaster will have your supplies and clothing ready. Communication will be by kite—be sure to that the medical team implants a transponder into each of you before you leave. The birds won't be able to find you, otherwise. Dismissed."

The godaime was surprised by the snatch of conversation she overhead as the pair left her office. She was sure she heard the copy ninja apologize softly to his reluctant teammate, and equally certain that Sakura responded with a dejected, "I told you so." The hokage smiled as she went back to her stacks of paperwork. At least the two were on speaking terms. As far as their relationship was concerned, that was a definite improvement.

o…o…o…o…o

Kakashi perched in a large sycamore just outside Konoha's heavy, wooden gate, observing Sakura and his son as they arrived at the designated meeting place. He'd actually arrived early for once, though it had been purely accidental on his part. His clock was broken (it had such a tiresome ring, he'd decided sleepily the previous morning), and he'd had to rely on nature's signals to determine when to leave his apartment today. Apparently, his interpretation had been a bit off. Not one to spoil a well-earned reputation, he settled onto a branch and found he was easily within earshot of the mother-son pair.

"Where is he? Where is he?" Tsuki revolved around his mother like an erratic satellite, full of energy, as usual.

"Has he been on time, yet, to pick you up for training?" Sarcasm, Kakashi thought, was quite inappropriate at this time of day, particularly when its intended audience took everything quite literally.

"Oh, no. There was the tiger, and the ocelot and even a black puma. Maybe he can communicate with them or something. I wish I would see a big cat every now and then." Her son looked positively forlorn.

Sakura's laugh was dry. "He was never on time when I was his student, either. Of course, the cats were a lot smaller then."

"How old were you when you did your first mission, Mom?"

"Twelve. It was an A class, too, but it didn't start out that way. Genin usually don't tackle that level of mission until nearing chunin level. You know, Tsunade-sama thinks very highly of you to send you on a mission like this at your age."

"This is going to be so much fun!" Tsuki orbited again, then began bouncing up and down. He stopped suddenly, as a vital thought gripped him.

"Mom, did you pack my action figures?"

"Wasn't that your responsibility?" Sakura laughed again as her son's eyes widened in despair. "I packed them. Don't worry. Although there was hardly room with all the clothes and stuffed animals you had crammed in there."

"They'd miss me."

Kakashi appeared before them in a puff of smoke, his dramatic entrance eliciting a derisive snort from one teammate and a gleeful laugh from the other.

"Sensei! Sensei! Was it another cat?"

"You bet. But a tiny one, this time—a little marmalade kitten in search of some milk."

"Was it tame?"

"Very. He purred up a storm when I rubbed him behind the ears." Tsuki gave him a one hundred watt smile that Kakashi matched with his own hidden one.

"Have you seen my stuffed kitten?"

"A real one?"

"No, silly! It's a toy. It's a marmalade kitten, too."

Sakura sighed audibly. Kakashi turned to her, smile still visible in the arc of his half-closed eye. "Ready to go?"

"We're standing here, aren't we?"

It seemed that they were off to a great start, he thought sarcastically, ignoring his own previous admonition. They walked silently for a while, which, he realized was something new. On the trip home the previous night, Sakura had also been quiet, but he'd assumed her silence was due to either fatigue, or the fear that they might be caught by trackers before arriving back in Konoha. But perhaps he'd been wrong. Maybe she'd changed from the effervescent, talkative teen he'd once known into a taciturn, humorless adult. No, that couldn't be true, he mused. She showed plenty of humor where her son was concerned. Most likely, he concluded, she was just pissed off about this mission. He decided to test the waters.

"We should have briefed yesterday afternoon." He did his best to keep the tone light, so she wouldn't think he was scolding her.

Sakura shrugged. "I guess." Normally, he thought, she would have turned to look at him. She'd always been good about making eye contact and engaging fully in conversations.

"Funny thing, though. I stopped by your house several times, but there was no answer."

Sakura appeared to be ignoring him, focusing her eyes down the well trod path at her son, who ran ahead.

"We must have missed you," she said finally.

"Uh huh."

"I don't see what the big deal is. I can read the scroll when we stop for a rest, can't I? Or you can brief me now."

"You know I can't do that. This is a class A mission. It will have to wait until we're at a secure location. And it's more than a single scroll, Sakura. Tsunade gave me several documents I think you would want to know about."

"Oh?" She finally seemed interested.

"It will have to wait." He felt a slight vindictive pleasure in saying so, he realized. The mission would fail, though, if he allowed things to degenerate. He shrugged off the negative energy he was feeling from her this morning. She was upset, and rightly so. In the past, Sakura had not gotten over things easily, he knew. It had taken her years to get over Sasuke. It was highly unlikely, he felt, that this part of her personality would have changed during her absence. He'd give her some space, and the time she needed to move past it.

The copy ninja pulled a book from his pocket and began to read.

"You found a replacement so soon?" Kakashi smiled to himself, as he suddenly remembered how often she'd interrupted his reading in the past. This seemed to be a surefire tactic to get her to talk.

"For Icha, Icha? Sadly, no." He'd hunted down Genma in search of even a ratty, torn-up copy. He'd finally found the man in question, but not the book. He sighed now, still pained by his loss, then frowned as she pointedly ignored his small effort to evoke guilt in her.

"Well, what is it? I can't tell." As the book he held had a plain, dark red binding, this wasn't surprising.

"It has to do with our cover for this mission. I really can't go into it right now." Again, he felt a perverse pleasure as he uttered these words. He'd never understood the passive-aggressive personalities of people like Shino, but now he thought he had an inkling.

"You can't even tell me the topic? One word?"

"Kenjutsu."

"Sword fighting."

"Uh huh." He turned a page, intent on giving her the space he knew she needed.

"I guess that explains the huge canvas bag on your back."

Kakashi shifted it, and the other bags he carried. He felt a bit like a sherpa today. He'd had to resort to a metal framed pack to support the extra weight he carried.

"I didn't know you'd studied swordsmanship."

He snapped the book shut and shoved it into his pocket. It was impossible to read while being pestered with questions. With _Icha, Icha,_ this had never been a problem, he noted wryly. Of course, the subject matter of that series was a lot more interesting. "All ANBU do. It's a requisite part of the training."

"But not all ANBU carry swords."

"True. But that's a matter of preference, just as some shinobi prefer senbon to shuriken."

"What does this have to do with our cover?"

"Later, Sakura."

"Fine. Can you share with me where we're headed?"

"Northwest, obviously."

"And?"

"To a hotel." One with thick walls, he decided, so that when she finally looked at the documents he'd mentioned, she could scream and storm without troubling the neighbors.

"That's all you can tell me?" He thought he heard her mutter "jerk" under her breath, but decided to ignore it. For the sake of the mission.

"I'll brief you there. I trust you picked up your supplies from the quartermaster?"

"Of course. Do you really think I would forget?" The look she gave him made him wish he was a bit better at choosing his words. He should just shut up for a while, he realized.

"And I had that damn transponder implanted, too. Tsuki cried. They tried not to be rough, but he kept squirming."

"It _was_ a bit uncomfortable." He rubbed his rump unconsciously.

"She really doesn't trust me, does she?"

He gave a sharp laugh. "Should she?"

"After yesterday, I guess not. She knew, didn't she?"

"I'd say so."

She faced him for the first time that morning. "Thanks. I appreciate—"

"Don't mention it. Really."

They walked silently, almost companionably, for a while.

"You know, Sakura, the transponder isn't about that. Trust, I mean. You could remove it easily, couldn't you? And attach it to a cat, or some other animal that wanders a bit? She just wants a way to be able to keep in touch. Though I've never used one on a mission before. In fact, I didn't know the village had them. Of course, I've always used my dogs in the past."

"Hmm. Oh, crap. Where's Tsuki?" She quickened her pace to catch up with her son, who'd disappeared beyond a bend in the road.

Kakashi smiled as he appreciated the curves of her retreating figure. She must have lost any pregnancy weight within weeks of delivery, he guessed. Breast feeding, perhaps? They were bigger now, he'd noticed. He slowed his pace a bit as the pair came into sight. Tsuki was dancing around her again, and although he couldn't see her face, he could tell from her gestures, and even from her posture, that she was smiling. It was clear Sakura was happier—at least a hundred times happier-- when alone with Tsuki. He'd allow her the luxury of pretending that this was the case today, at least until the road forked.

o…o…o…o…o

"Hovel, sweet hovel." Kakashi swung his metal-framed back onto the room's sole bed, and carefully placed the longer canvas bag on the floor, as the small room lacked a closet or even a niche where they could store their gear.

"Hovel is definitely the word for it." Sakura glanced around the room, as Tsuki excitedly pointed out its water-stained ceiling, peeling wallpaper, and threadbare bedspread.

Sadly, both Kakashi and Sakura had each stayed in worse. Tonight they'd arrived in Bordertown at close to ten, and this was the only place that had a vacancy. Apparently, this was a busy time of year for traders. Luckily, though, this inn was actually a series of one-room cottages, each set some distance from the others. They'd have privacy for their briefing, at the very least. The room was unheated, however, and smelled of damp. But there were plenty of blankets to mitigate the chill that would likely settle into the room as the night progressed.

"This is our last night as shinobi. Once we get into the woods tomorrow, we'll change into plainclothes. It would be smart to leave our hitae-ate behind, in case our packs are searched. There's an old friend of Jiraiya's here that will hold them for us.

"So." Sakura settled on the bed. "Mission scroll?"

Kakashi passed the long document to her, and gazed at her as she read it silently. Tsuki bobbed behind her, as eager to learn the details as she, but she ignored him in her concentration. Kakashi stiffened as she reached the middle of the scroll. As though on cue, her jaw set and her fist clenched, her knuckles turning almost pure white as her neatly clipped nails dug into her palm. She continued reading, however, to the scroll's very end, then quickly re-rolled it and threw it onto the sagging bed.

"I can guess what the other documents are, but you might as well show me."

Kakashi pulled three thin, leatherette-bound booklets from his pack, as well as another, smaller parchment scroll. He handed them to her, then turned away to give her a moment's privacy. He suddenly regretted his bout of vindictiveness that morning, though he really hadn't acted on those feelings. Much.

"Tsuki, why don't you get ready for bed? I'm going to stop by the office to see about that roll-away bed they promised." The copy ninja left hurriedly and when he returned, cot in tow, he noticed Sakura seemed calmer, although her eyes were rimmed with red. They'd both changed into nightclothes, too: Tsuki into the footed-style pajamas Kakashi remembered from his own childhood, and Sakura into a faded indigo tank-top and boxer shorts, both emblazoned with the arrow-like Waterfall symbol.

"Let's go to bed," she said in a flat voice. "We'll need to get an early start tomorrow."

This was certainly different than the first time he'd spent the night, Kakashi thought as he unfolded the blanket at the foot of the bed and began to arrange a pallet. But she did look disarmingly attractive in what were obviously men's undergarments. She was still as beautiful as he remembered. Her skin was perfectly smooth and unflawed by scars (though this was to be expected in a medic), her legs were longer than he recalled, and though muscular, quite shapely, and the curve of her upper thigh as it met her derriere was exquisite--

"Don't be stupid, _Yuki_," Sakura said with a bitter smile, as she climbed into bed. "The floor is stone-- it's too cold for you to sleep there. But don't forget—I'm stronger than you. Lay a finger on me, and you'll regret it."


	12. Chapter 12 Pale Blue Eyes

_Disclaimer: Naruto and associated characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto. They are not my property!_

**A Book of Five Rings—Go Rin No Sho **

**Chapter 12— Pale Blue Eyes**

"Why?"

"Can't sleep?" Kakashi's quiet voice startled her. From the quality of his breathing, she'd assumed he was asleep.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you." She glanced at the cot alongside her bed. Tsuki was dead to the world, it seemed. In the flickering light put off by the stub of a wall-mounted candle, she could see that his blankets were twisted around him, his mouth slightly open. She leaned over to adjust his coverings, then gently kissed his forehead. She was surprised to feel Kakashi's eyes on her as she settled back into her pillow.

"You didn't. Disturb me, that is. I usually sleep alone. It's difficult to get used to sharing a bed."

"Really." Her voice was dry. The thought of Kakashi _not_ sharing his bed was a hard one to imagine.

"I didn't say I was a monk. It's just easier that way."

"So you kick them out? After…? Never mind-- forget I asked." Sakura shook her head to ward off the creepy feeling she got whenever she considered Kakashi's sex life and her own misguided part in it. She threw back the covers as she spoke next. "I think I'll go for a walk."

"It must be past three. It's not a good idea to be wandering the streets of an unknown town so late."

"I can handle myself." She bristled at the perceived affront to her abilities.

"I know." He sighed. "That's not what I meant. Get some sleep. You're going to need it-- we've got a lot to do tomorrow."

"Okay." He was right, she realized. It was the darkest time of night. The twinge of brightness typically seen by four a.m. at this time of year was nowhere in evidence, and not even a single bird called out to predict the dawn. This was the hour of earth's mirror-eyed predators, and their wide-eyed prey. It was not the time to be wandering a new town alone, distracted by ones worries.

Sakura surrendered herself to the warmth of the lumpy, sagging bed. Kakashi, she noticed, was trying hard to remain on his side, which was difficult, considering the inward slope of the mattress. In the hours she'd spent just below the surface of sleep, mulling over the plan Tsunade had mapped out, she'd rolled several times into the depression in the center of the mattress. The poorly padded surface was at least twenty years old, she guessed, and probably had not been flipped once in that time. She placed a pillow between them now, as she had no desire to wake up in proximity to her promiscuous bed partner. If she ever got to sleep, that is.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No. It's fine."

"I know I'm not your first choice." He chuckled softly. "Or even your last. This is hell for you, isn't it?"

She exhaled in a half-laugh.

"Why don't you pretend I'm someone else? Ino, maybe?" This elicited a snort of laughter. "Seriously, it will help you sleep. Once you talk through it, you can put it away."

"This is so unlike the Kakashi I trained under," Sakura thought. "He would barely string more than three words together back then. And he didn't give a rat's ass about me, either. Sasuke always called Naruto, "dead last," but really, that was me, in Kakashi's eyes."

"Why the concern? Frankly, it's not like you," she said aloud.

"You're my partner."

"I'll be fine, _partner_. Go back to sleep."

"Got it." He rolled away from her, and onto his side, and she relaxed slightly. But she waited until his breathing had evened again before allowing herself the luxury of silent tears.

"Tell me about him." His back was still towards her, and his voice was soft. He couldn't have heard her—she'd been absolutely silent, not even sniffling. Too quiet, probably. But how could he tell what she was thinking, and why on earth did he care?

"He was my friend. My best friend. He loved me unconditionally, and I…"

"How long were you together?" He asked the question casually as he turned toward her.

"Less than a year. He died a few months after Tsuki was born. He—" Her voice broke.

"You miss him as though it happened yesterday." It wasn't a question, she realized, but an observation. She sighed in affirmation.

"He was there for me when I was completely alone. I had no one, just a squirming little fish in my belly, whom I was half-afraid of. But he made everything alright."

"You miss what you might have had? Were you hoping for a big family?" These questions seemed strangely intrusive to her, but she answered anyway, though she avoided meeting his eyes.

"No. He wasn't the type, even though he was an excellent father." Even with the pillow between them, she was aware of a subtle shift in her bedmate's chakra as he processed her words. "That's not what this is about, though—it's not about what I _hoped_ for. The problem is I don't understand why Tsunade is mocking me in this way. I see the logic of playing the part of your wife—I'm not happy about it, but I get it. What I don't get is _you_ playing the role of Yuki. She's dishonoring his memory."

"It's only his name, Sakura. Nothing more."

"I knew she was spiteful, but never once was her vindictiveness directed at me. I should have realized I'd be targeted eventually—everyone else was. Maybe this is because I was gone for so long."

"Sakura." Kakashi turned to face her, placed his hand on her shoulder and looked her squarely in the eyes. It was strange, she realized, to lock eyes with both of his. His Sharingan spun slowly in the dim, ever-changing light, though he apparently was not using this ultimate shinobi tool on her—she would have noticed some difference in her own chakra flow. For him to touch her was strange as well, she thought. He was intentionally crossing boundaries tonight, though not in a sexual way.

"Take your feelings out of the equation. This isn't about you." Ah, there was the sensei she remembered, full of cold, analytical observations. "This is tactics, plain and simple. You were never a good liar, so perhaps you haven't realized this, but the best lies are those that are grounded in truth. Why do you think I told that particular story to Tsunade yesterday? And why do you think she bought your story about Tsuki and the phase he's going through?"

She bit her lip. He was making sense, as he always had. When would she learn not to take others' words and actions so personally?

"It's simple, really. You may not know how to be a husband to me, but you _were_ one to Yuki. You have memories of how you interacted that you can draw from when you talk to others about our history. They're real and far superior to concocting a history for ourselves. When you recall them, people will know instinctively that you're telling the truth. That's valuable to us. And the fact that he's gone now gives us the cover we need. His records have been purged—you read that. As far as Waterfall is concerned he was a mercenary, not a ninja. He worked with classified information, didn't he? A desk job?" Sakura nodded. "That reduces the likelihood that we'll run across any missing Waterfall nin who knew him by sight. And as for why we're no longer in Waterfall--we've left the country for obvious reasons. No family stays in a war zone if they can avoid it. It's an excellent cover story, Sakura. I wouldn't be surprised if Shikamaru had a hand in pulling it together. And apart from all that, we'll be using double cover. Fuyuno and wife is our fall-back identity—we'll pull it out only if people become suspicious."

"That wasn't in the scroll."

"No, but if this mission takes as long as I think it will, we'll need an extra layer of protection."

She sighed in relief. She had a feeling Kakashi had added the idea of a second cover extemporaneously, perhaps in an effort to placate her. Again, she was surprised by his solicitousness. He'd never seemed to give a damn, before.

"That makes it easier. I was wondering what to tell Tsuki. He knows his father was Fuyuno Yuki." She felt the copy ninja tense up again as she spoke. "Well, he _was_," she thought sullenly, irked at the small twinge of guilt she suddenly felt.

"How did you know Yuki was in the Office of Strategy and Information?" Sakura looked at him suspiciously. It seemed she couldn't help herself. Or maybe this was just her way of pushing down the feelings of near-compassion for the copy ninja that she'd felt for a second or two.

"Tsunade told me. I stopped back at her office last night after I read the mission scroll. She didn't have a whole lot to say, though."

"Oh." She rolled over and closed her eyes. "Well, I never told her much in my letters."

"Sleepy?"

"No. Damn."

"Why don't you brief me?"

"On Yuki? What do you want to know?"

"Personality traits, job details, that kind of stuff. Physical traits aren't really important."

"Well…" Her face relaxed as she thought of her late husband. "He was a practical joker, and the fact that he was as smart as Shikamaru made his jokes that much worse, assuming you were on the receiving end. They were nothing like the pranks Naruto used to pull. One time, he impersonated the head of communications for the village, and sent out a memo that at exactly 3 p.m. there'd be a test of all wireless devices, and that they'd be sending steam through the broadcasting system. It's hard to believe anyone would fall for something like that, but at least ten of the coworkers in nearby cubicles wrapped their radios in towels that afternoon, and there was a bit of a panic in the village square." Her eyes softened further as she giggled softly. "Another time he wired a coworker's computer to an air horn. When the man turned it on, he nearly flew across the room. But he totally deserved it. I met the man—he had a voice like a cannon—it was hard for anyone to get their work done until Yuki quieted him down."

"By deafening him?" Kakashi laughed.

"No. It didn't make him deaf, but it did make him circumspect."

"What about the job?"

"He was a code-breaker and encryptor. But he worked sometimes in strategic planning, too—troop movements and so forth. I don't know much more because it was classified, but you get the picture, right?"

"What type of training did he have? Physical, I mean. Did he specialize in a particular form of jutsu, or was he completely office-bound?"

"He was extremely athletic. He was good at everything he tried."

"Did he train with the katana, or wakizashi?"

"Yes, I think so. I remember seeing a katana above his parents' fireplace—they hung it there after he died. But by the time I met him, he was long past being able to use one."

"Why?"

"He was blind."

"Ah."

"Ah, what?" He appeared to be distracted, she noticed.

"Hmm? Oh, I'm just a little surprised. Tsunade didn't pass on that little piece of information when I stopped by to see her."

Sakura smirked. "I guess she figured I would tell you, once you dropped the bomb on me. But Yuki wasn't completely blind, anyway—technically, he had what's known as low vision. He could see things that were right in front of his face, and he could read large print with the help of a magnifier. And he was able to get an idea of what Tsuki looked like when he was born. He named him, in fact. He said he saw an aura of moonlight around him." Again, Sakura felt the man beside her tense slightly, although when she scrutinized his face she saw no change in his typical laconic gaze. "But his field of vision was shrinking steadily, and in a couple years' time, he would have been completely blind."

"How many people knew about his condition?"

"I'm not sure. He didn't carry a cane, or use a dog, but if you spent time with him it became obvious pretty quickly that he wasn't fully sighted—he couldn't read without a magnifier. Everyone he worked with knew he was partially blind, but he was careful not to let on just how poor his vision was. He had a supervisor who was itching to get some dirt on him—Yuki was sure he'd be fired if the man knew the whole truth. It was surprising how well he could hide it, though. He could navigate a room as well as anybody, and he relied on his memories of people and a whole lot of inference and guess work to make up for what he couldn't see."

"He sounds like an interesting man. Anything else?"

"That you need to know for the mission? I don't think so." She plumped her pillow and slowly sank into its warmth, finally relaxed enough to get some sleep. "Thanks," she said softly.

"No problem. It's my job." He rolled away from her, after extinguishing the room's single light. "Thank _you_, Sakura."

"What for?"

"For trusting me enough to talk about this."

"Oh."

"Things are going to be okay."

Her voice was sleepy as she replied. "Last time you said that, things went to hell in a hand-basket immediately after."

"Yeah. I know."

"This is why you're so private, isn't it?"

"Hmm?" She could tell he was feigning sleepiness. She doubted he needed any more sleep than Tsuki did.

"They use whatever info they have on you—isn't that right?"

"Yes. It's good planning to use all information you have at hand. There really isn't room for feelings to be considered when the success of a mission is at stake."

"So if you don't share anything, they can't abuse your memories."

"Uh-huh."

"But isn't that traitorous? Shouldn't you give them the info they need if it means a better mission plan will result?"

"No, Sakura. That's self preservation. There are competing interests at play here. Our job as ninja is to serve, but we can only serve if we survive. If I wore my heart on my sleeve, like you, I would have bit it a long time ago." He chuckled softly, though the topic wasn't particularly funny. She guessed it must be some private joke.

"But—"

"Get some sleep. It will be dawn before you know it."

o…o…o…o…o

Dawn did come quickly, and as pink-tinged light peeked through the threadbare curtains of their run-down room, Kakashi rose from bed, eager to start the day. The lumpy bed had afforded him little rest, but it hadn't been solely the fault of the sagging, elderly mattress. He simply wasn't used to sharing his bed. He looked at Sakura, now fast asleep, finally peaceful. Her hair was splayed, fanlike, over the mismatched pillowcase, and even in sleep, he noticed, she clutched the blankets against her, as though on guard against an assault on her virtue. She looked like a girl, not a lethal kunoichi. He smiled under his mask. The childlike impression she made would serve them well on this mission. The copy nin picked carefully through the room in an attempt to avoid waking up Sakura or her son, kneeling on the small amount of floor space available now that the folding bed was in the room. He should shower, he thought, pulling a toiletry bag and hand-labeled bottle from his overstuffed pack. And dye his hair, as well. Among the supplies he'd received from the quartermaster was this bottle of hair colorant. Kakashi ran his hands through his unruly, spiky mass of silver. He hated this aspect of deep cover missions: he was very fond of his own hair color, though he knew it made him stand out. And with his image in bingo books for years, now, blending into the crowd was critical.

He thought better of spending an extended amount of time in the bathroom, however, as soon as he pulled back the room's shower curtain. They had been too tired to inspect the room thoroughly upon check-in the previous night, but in the light of day, its imperfections were obvious. The tub and surround hadn't been cleaned in years, it seemed: it was dirtier than any bathroom he'd seen. Apart from the mildew and grime that were to be expected in an inn of this quality, there was an abundance of spider webs, silverfish, and, if he wasn't mistaken, even an oversized cockroach, although it scurried so quickly when the lights were turned on that he couldn't be sure of his identification. Apart from these higher forms of life, there was the telltale sign of bacteria, as well, a pale pink layer of serratia that had accumulated in the wetter parts of the tub.

Almost Sakura's color, he thought as he turned toward the sink, though she certainly wouldn't appreciate the comparison.

"Are you going to be in there all morning?" Sakura's strident voice was punctuated by an equally loud pounding on the hollow-core bathroom door.

_Speak of the devil._

"And good morning to you, too, little Miss Sunshine!" He opened the door to find her scowling just outside of it. "It's so good to see your cheery face."

"I need coffee. Don't talk to me," she grumbled as she pushed past him and shut the door firmly behind her. Kakashi quickly dressed, intent on finding plenty of the beverage that would hopefully rehumanize his companion, and was just about to head out the door when he heard Sakura shriek. She swung the bathroom door open, a look of disgust on her face.

"How much did we pay for this room?"

"Two ryo."

"Two ryo too much. I was going to give Tsuki a bath, but I'm afraid he might come down with a communicable disease."

Kakashi shrugged. "There are warm springs not far from here, on the way to Sato-sensei's place. We can bathe there."

"Sato-sensei?"

"Jiraiya's friend."

"He's a teacher?"

"Artist, actually. Photographer."

"Gee. I wonder what type of photographs he specializes in." Sakura rolled her eyes.

Kakashi decided to play it dumb, though he was very familiar with Sato's work. The man was a legend in erotic art circles, after all. "I guess we'll find out. But he should be able to take photos for our traveling papers. Jiraiya referred to him as a talented forger, as well, should the need arise."

Coffee did do the trick, Kakashi realized upon his return, as Sakura fairly tugged from his hands an oversized, disposable cup filled with the beverage, and gulped it eagerly. A warm smile spread across her face immediately. Apparently, her addiction was psychological as well as physical.

"Ready to get going?"

"_I _am." Sakura gestured towards Tsuki, who was intently studying several garments he'd laid out on his small bed. "This may take a while."

"You know, Tsuki, green is always a good color to wear when you're traveling in the woods."

The boy beamed at Kakashi as he scooped up the sole green garment from his carefully arranged assortment.

"I can't believe that worked." Sakura's voice was almost inaudible.

Kakashi smiled smugly as he replied in an equally soft voice. "I wasn't too different when I was his age. My dad used that tactic on me several times before I caught on."

"What are you two talking about? Let's go!" Tsuki ran to the door and yanked it open, then hopped along the flagstone path the led to the inn's main entrance. "Can we get breakfast here? Can we?"

"Do we dare?" Sakura muttered.

"There's a better place down the road, Tsuki, and they have a mechanical pony outside. This way." Kakashi beckoned to the little boy, and as though charmed, Tsuki turned sharply and ran to him.

"How many times can I ride it?"

"That depends on your behavior during breakfast, young man."

"Mommy, I'm always good when we eat out." Tsuki's brow furrowed as he scowled.

"I think your memory is faulty, darling."

"Can I have just one ride beforehand?"

Sakura's "no," coincided with Kakashi's "yes," and she glared at the copy ninja as her son grinned victoriously and pumped his fist.

"Score!"

"Why would you give him the reward beforehand?" Sakura looked incredulously at the copy ninja. "Let me handle the parenting, please."

"Yes, ma'am," Kakashi replied, falling back slightly to allow mother and son to walk together for a while.

A heavy breakfast and twelve pony rides later, the trio left the environs of Bordertown and headed into the woods. "Sato-sensei's only a few kilometers from here, so we can walk." Kakashi adjusted his metal-framed pack and headed due north, toward the springs that were only slightly out of their way.

"It's deserted, " Sakura pointed out as they arrived.

"Well, it's not the most welcoming terrain." Indeed the hike from town, though short, had been taxing, even for three in prime physical condition. They slid down a ravine and arrived at the first of the springs.

"There are many natural pools around here, or so I've been told. This area is volcanically active. Why don't we spread out so each of us has some privacy?"

"I'd rather wait. I'll bathe Tsuki now, then you can mind him while I take a turn." Sakura picked up her pack and walked off with Tsuki. Kakashi frowned. He'd thought that they'd established a modicum of trust the previous night. Did she really think he would spy on her? He wasn't Jiraiya, after all.

After stripping, Kakashi dipped a rough cloth into the heated waters of the bubbling spring and quickly rubbed himself down, then entered the clear, green-blue tinged waters of the natural pool. It must contain dissolved copper, he thought idly as he settled onto one of the flat, igneous rocks that lined the pool. It seemed a shame not to take advantage of beauty of the area, considering that the hike had been a bit more strenuous than he expected. It was still early morning, and the surrounding birds' first daily chorus had not yet subsided. He listened carefully, identifying as many of the songs as he could. One could tell a lot about the health of a forest, as well as gain news of its intruders by listening to the seemingly simple calls of thrushes, wrens and nightingales. All appeared to well this morning, and Kakashi took the opportunity to relax, closing his eyes for a quick cat nap. He had gotten not a wink of sleep the previous night, after putting Sakura to bed. Lying in her presence had been enough to keep him awake, and even in the dark, his Sharingan allowed him to view her quite clearly. He'd studied her for a while, but had turned away as he realized his thoughts were becoming more and more counterproductive to their upcoming mission.

Now the copy ninja reached for his pack and pulled it closer for easier access. He pulled out a cleverly-designed collapsible bucket, tightly woven of bamboo fiber, as well as the hair color he'd examined earlier, then dunked his head in the warm waters of the pool. He applied the clear dye to his head, and then, carefully, to his eyebrows. He'd used this particular formulation before—Konoha's herbalists had done an excellent job preparing a colorant that couldn't harm the eyes, skin or environment. It reacted only with the proteins specific to hair, and because it was colorless, could be easily hidden among ones other toiletries. With frequent use, it would be impossible to tell that a person's hair was dyed, making the solution perfect for undercover work. It was nothing like the messy, walnut-based dyes he'd used in the past, which would color skin for days and clothes permanently. Apart from the mild tingle it imparted to the skin, it was hard to tell this dye apart from conditioner. Not that he used _that_ much—he preferred his hair in the natural, wild state that befit a man of his occupation. The copy ninja leaned back in his makeshift spa and waited another half hour for his beauty treatment to do its work, considering, as he soaked, the mission that lay before them.

They'd journey to Grass, first: that had been the purpose of traveling to the northwest. Although the village hidden in the Grass was a sometime ally, the same could not be said of the country itself. It was ruled, like all countries on their continent, by daimyo, and, as in all countries that contained a hidden village, there was tension between the larger country and the independent state that lay within. It was quite possible that one of these daimyo was the source of the weapons that had turned up in the countries surrounding their home country, and as it was close by to both Fire and Waterfall, Grass's largest daimyo-controlled village would be a good place to start. It would be natural for a family fleeing the war in Waterfall to head to a nearby region, after all, and as both Kakashi and Sakura were familiar with the customs of this neighboring country, they wouldn't stand out too much from its natives.

How would Sakura behave, once they introduced themselves to the locals as husband and wife? There were three options, he determined, although the first, acting as lovebirds, seemed out of the question. Even if she agreed to something like that, which seemed completely implausible, he wasn't sure _he'd_ be able to stomach it. He just wasn't the romantic type, even if the romance in question was completely fictitious.

The second option was for Sakura to play the harpy-- the abusive, nagging wife. He could easily see her settling into this role, though he dearly hoped she wouldn't. He had no intention of playing the tolerant, forbearing spouse. Again, he didn't think he had it in him. He'd never allowed another to dominate him, whether at work, play, or during other forms of recreation, and he knew he wouldn't stand for it in this circumstance, either.

That left the roles he saw often in Konoha: the husband and wife who'd once loved each other, but whom had grown more and more distant over time. There would be small signs of affection, such as occasional hand-holding and pecks on the cheek, but nothing that would require a great deal of effort or imagination. He realized he was most comfortable with these roles, and hoped Sakura would be as well. However, a part of him was unsure of their suitability. Sakura was a beautiful, young woman, and he was handsome as well, though he rarely received affirmation of that fact. Apart from that, their age difference suggested a torrid romance in their past—why else would a young, nubile woman fall for a man so much her senior? It was hard to imagine such a relationship cooling so radically after only five years or so.

They'd play it by ear, he decided. They'd start out distance, and if circumstances warranted it, they'd put on a show. He decided not to inform Sakura of this fall-back plan. She was skittish enough about this mission already. He had a feeling that one wrong word would cause her to bolt again.

Kakashi sighed as he stood, grabbed the woven pail and used it to pour warm water over his head. He repeated this several times, until he was sure the bulk of the dye had been removed from his hair and brows, then reached for the small tenugui that was standard issue for traveling shinobi—a regular terrycloth towel would be much more effective, but the thin, smooth cloth of a tenugui took up little space and dried quickly. Not quite dry, but no longer dripping wet, he reached for the civilian clothes he'd set into the top of his pack.

It would be strange not to wear his mask. He'd done it before on undercover missions, but when doing so, he was always aware of its absence. It was as though he were missing a limb: he'd suddenly remember the feel of it against his skin and wonder fleetingly whether it had slipped down, before reminding himself that he wasn't wearing it. Combined with the loss of his beloved books, he knew he'd be spending the coming months feeling like someone other than his normal self. He sighed as he reached for the small plastic container he'd obtained from the quartermaster after visiting the hospital's eye specialist. Here was another small thing that would partially obliterate his identity. The lenses he'd been provided with were ingenious, and would obviate the need for the eye patch he typically wore in similar circumstances. One lens was partially opaque, and detailed with an incredibly realistic, multilayered iris, that appeared to have the depth and subtle shading of the real thing. The other was completely opaque, and would therefore both obscure his Sharingan and conserve chakra. It too, was highly detailed, its iris identical to the other, and its pupil solid black.

They weren't terribly uncomfortable, he thought as he pulled a metal mirror from a side pocket of his pack. What's more, they looked like they could be his own eyes. He barely recognized the man staring back at him, he realized as he moved the slightly dulled mirror back to examine his entire face. This was due to the new coloring of his hair and eyes, of course, but also to the fact that he rarely looked in a mirror. When he did, which wasn't often, thanks to the presence of his mask, he focused only on the portion that needed shaving. Kakashi smiled as he packed up his belongings and walked in the direction which he'd seen Sakura take. He wondered what she'd think of him. He had remembered, with the help of his self-administered Sharingan technique, the promise he'd made to her about showing his face. Perhaps he'd make her promise him a game of Go in return for this early reward. Maybe this show of openness on his part would help to strengthen the fledging trust between them.

Kakashi didn't have much experience at showing his face. On certain missions he'd done so, and had been slightly repelled at the uncontrolled response it provoked in both women and men. He knew he was handsome, of course, without ever having been told so. He was the spitting image of his father, after all, and he remembered clearly the jokes his mother had made about her husband's appearance during happier times. She'd often suggested Kakashi's father wear a mask, though he'd adamantly refused to do so, crowing over the validation each compliment provided.

So Sakura should be surprised to see his face. He was sure of it. Perhaps her jaw would drop, maybe she'd drool, or blush and look away. He smiled again. He realized he was looking forward to her reaction, whatever it might be.

The newly transformed copy ninja crept up behind his freshly scrubbed son and the boy's mother, who appeared to be busy gathering plants of some sort-- medicinal herbs, no doubt. She was on her hands and knees, rear end in the air, in a thoroughly enticing pose. He admired her anatomy for a moment or two, and cleared his throat as she stood, back still to him. He took a quick step back as she whirled around to face him.

"Yu--!" Her eyes widened, then narrowed as her brows descended rapidly into the mother of all glowers. "You _fucking_ bastard. You absolute fucking bastard. How—how dare you—"

This wasn't what he had expected. He ran his fingers through his still wet hair and looked at her curiously. He had thought her bad mood had dissipated after the large infusion of coffee earlier that morning. Now he advanced toward her, only to have her push him away violently.

"I… I _trusted_ you. Bastard." He was surprised at the words she chose, considering her son was standing right next to her, looking up at her in wonder. However, by now he knew better than to bring the matter up.

"What did I do?" he asked instead. What the _hell_ was wrong with her? He'd been away an hour, sure, but that really wasn't _that_ long. And the two of them obviously had been productively engaged during his absence, so what was the big deal? Was she that desperate for a hot bath? And why hadn't she made any acknowledgment of the fact that his face was uncovered? Maybe it was her time of the month, he mused. Maybe it was always her time of the month.

"_What_ _did_ _you_ _do_?" She shrieked, then slapped him, and he was almost certain she'd left an impression of her fine-boned, yet frighteningly strong hand on his cheek.

"Sakura—"

"Don't. Don't. There's nothing you can say that will change your actions. Get—get away from me." She ran off, not even pausing to look at her son. Something was definitely wrong—it was obvious that Tsuki was the center of her life. For her to leave without a word-- Kakashi turned to follow.

"What did you do to her?" Tsuki's voice was small, but filled with concern.

"Nothing!" The boy looked at him unbelievingly, and Kakashi felt himself drop a few pegs in the boy's estimation. "I don't know, Tsuki, but I need to find out." The boy turned to follow his mother's path, and Kakashi placed a hand on his shoulder in an effort to restrain him. "Don't. Tsuki, I need to talk to your mom privately. If I did do something to hurt her, I need to fix it myself. Do you understand?"

The boy looked at him suspiciously, and Kakashi felt a twinge or something or other-- a sharp, snapping motion deep within him.

"I guess so," Tsuki replied grudgingly after considering the facts for a moment. "But if you hurt her more, I'll make you sorry."

He thought quickly. "Would you like to surprise you Mom with something special? A new technique?"

The boy nodded emphatically, as Kakashi pulled out his collection of kunai.

"I've been meaning to show you this." He picked up the weapon and sent it flying across the clearing in which they stood. It buried itself hilt deep into a burled maple 300 meters away. "Give it a try. Focus your chakra into the knife as you throw."

Tsuki gave a praiseworthy first attempt, then busied himself with characteristic energy as Kakashi left him to his task. He found Sakura quickly, sitting below the dense foliage of another maple. She regarded him murderously as he approached.

"You must have a death wish."

If she only knew how correct she was. Kakashi nearly laughed aloud.

"If you want to hurt me, feel free. But first tell me what it is you're so angry about. I really have no idea."

"Right." She turned away as she brushed tears from her face. "You really have no idea."

Kakashi flopped down beside her, and grabbed her hand as it curled into a fist. "First, you have to tell me."

"I should have realized last night, when you said you didn't need information about Yuki's appearance. Sometimes I'm so stupid."

"Yuki? This is about _Yuki_?"

"Would you quit it? It's obvious you knew about this—she showed you his picture, didn't she? The one I sent her when we got married."

"No."

"Bullshit. _This_ picture. Take a look—maybe it will jog your memory." She pulled a well-worn photo from her kunai pouch and waved it in front of him. There definitely was a resemblance, Kakashi realized with a start, although clearly Yuki was not as good looking as _he_ was. The pale blue eyes were Yuki's, though. There was no doubt about it.

"Kuso. I didn't know."

"Right. You're an asshole, and I'm an idiot for thinking maybe you were the tiniest bit trustworthy."

Kakashi felt something else snap within him-- his patience, perhaps. He responded to her with uncharacteristic, and spontaneous passion. "You're right. I am an asshole. I'm a lot of unpleasant things. I'm a drunk, a womanizing prick, a coward—" she looked up at him, clearly surprised by the last remark, "—a loner, a pervert—the list goes on. But one thing I haven't been for a long time is someone who betrays his teammates. I told you a long time ago that I would die to protect my team. That hasn't changed. You and Tsuki are my team, now, and you come first. I've never lied to a teammate, and I never will when it comes to a mission." He didn't attempt to hide the pain in his voice—she needed to know he was telling the truth, so his usual tactic of obscuring his feelings was thrown out the window without a second thought.

Was he getting through to her? Moments later he had his answer, as she broke down, hiding her head in her hands as she sobbed loudly.

"_She_ knew."

"It looks like it." He didn't know what to do. If he touched her would she bite his hand off? He decided to risk a decidely non-sexual pat on the back. He was surprised when she sat up straight and grasped his hand in her own. He gingerly pulled her towards him, and was surprised again when she rested her head against his shirt, soaking it through in short order.

"She was my mentor. She said I was her best student. That I'd even surpassed Shizune."

"It's tactics, Sakura. Don't focus on the personal side." He allowed himself a gentle caress of her back, and felt her relax further against him.

"Sometimes I hate being shinobi," she said with a voice muffled by damp fabric. "Every part of me is put to use, even the private things I hold most dear."

"We're weapons."

"My son is a _four-year-old_ weapon and there's a good chance he'll die before he becomes a man. What kind of nation sends its children to war?"

Kakashi was silent. There was no good answer to that question. Konoha had always been this way—it was the price they paid for security. But that didn't mean it made any sense.

"Fix it." She pulled away from him and looked him squarely in the eye.

"How?" _Fix what?_

"I can't stand to look at you right now."

"I can't fix the eyes—an eyepatch would be a tip-off. Most mercenaries have both of their eyes intact. I might be able to buy different colored lenses in a big city, but not an opaque one. I'm sure it was custom made."

"Of course it was. To match my husband." She sighed as she regarded the copy ninja. "Fix the hair." She rummaged in her pack and produced a bottle similar in appearance to the one he'd unpacked earlier. "Apparently I was supposed to dye my hair grey. I guess one of us needed to look like Tsuki." He accepted the bottle, noting wryly that its color was listed as silver, not grey. He ignored the jab.

"Are we okay?"

"No, we're not okay. I don't think we'll ever be okay. But am I willing to put this behind me? Yes. I… I know now that you weren't lying." She stood and grabbed her pack. "Can I trust you not to peep while I'm bathing?" Her look told him that this was no time to make a joke.

"I'll be busy dying my hair. Twice in one day," he added in an undertone.

"Take Tsuki with you?" This was a subtle display of her trust, he realized, and he smiled openly in response.

"He's been peppering me with questions about male anatomy. It might do him some good to see yours."

Kakashi blushed. Like a kunoichi, he thought, on first hearing about some of the things that they are expected to do. He _never_ blushed—he'd trained himself years ago. He walked behind a much calmer Sakura as he attempted to redirect his blood flow to any less visible part of his body. Well, almost any part.

"Sakura?" he asked as they approached the clearing. "I'm sorry. I really am sorry."

"For what?" The sadness in her eyes had returned. He almost preferred the spark of anger he'd seen earlier.

"For everything you've been through. And for my part in it."

"Don't. What's done is done."

"Then I'll make sure the future is done differently."

She smiled, and Kakashi realized it was the first real smile she'd directed his way since she'd returned to Konoha. "I'd like that."


	13. Chapter 13 Envy

_Disclaimer: Naruto and associated characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto. They are not my property!_

**A Book of Five Rings—Go Rin No Sho **

**Chapter 13— Envy**

"Why is yours so much bigger than mine?"

Kakashi had been expecting a question of this sort, although he hadn't thought the four year old would put it so bluntly. He tossed his towel to the side, then stepped into the natural pool, woven bucket in hand. If Tsuki were one of the boys of team seven, he would have fired off one of the several smart-ass rejoinders that naturally popped into his head whenever he was presented with a difficult question. This was Tsuki, though, a boy who was not only his son, but a good deal smarter than the average genin. He'd try fogging him instead, a technique that worked on everyone.

"Of course I have a bigger towel. I'm more than twice your height." The copy ninja dipped the bucket into the pool and filled it with the steaming water, then set it down on the pool's edge. "Grab a washcloth from my pack, and make sure you scrub yourself down before getting in here. How did you get so filthy?" He sounded a bit like Sakura, he realized.

"I had to retrieve the kunai after I threw them. It's muddy by that tree." That was hardly an excuse for being covered, head to toe in what appeared to be brownie batter, but then again, he was a little boy. Kakashi recalled similar conversations with his own mother and father, in which both parties were equally exasperated by the other. He smiled. The boy had seemingly forgotten his earlier question. Instead, Tsuki scrubbed vigorously at the dirt ground into his skin, diligent as usual.

Kakashi settled into the bath, eager to relax a bit after his emotional interlude with the boy's mother. It wasn't like him to be so open, and it felt strange now to review his words and feelings. He didn't regret speaking out—she had needed to know how he felt. But the fact that he wouldn't have been able to stop his outburst if he had wanted to was strange. She had pushed his buttons, unwittingly, to be sure. But, still. No one else had ever been able to do so—not since Obito.

The boy joined him in his bath, with a splash and a smile. "That answer you gave me was pretty lame, sensei."

"Hmm?" Kakashi kept his eyes closed. Maybe if he ignored the comment, Tsuki would switch to a new topic.

"Your chinpoko. Why is it so much bigger than mine?"

He didn't bother to open his eyes. "Because I'm taller than you. My feet are bigger, too, see?" He lifted a foot out of the water and sent it down with a splash that he hoped would distract the boy.

"But not proportionately."

He should have known the simplest explanation wouldn't work. A child gifted enough to figure out the trajectory needed to hit a target at 300 meters was no slouch at mathematics. He'd landed every shot: Kakashi had inspected the tree upon his return to the clearing. It therefore stood to reason that Tsuki would have a grasp of ratio and proportion. Kakashi sighed.

"I guess that's true. Adults do have bigger ones than kids. Proportionately."

"Oh." Kakashi opened his eyes to see Tsuki tossing water from his cupped hands, then catching it again to cause a shower of tiny drops that glistened in the mid-morning light . "But why?"

"Well…" How much information was too much? Was the boy ready for a discourse on growers versus show-ers? He wasn't supposed to be having _the_ sex talk with a boy of this age, was he? Kakashi's brows lowered momentarily as he realized just how perfectly Sakura had set him up. He'd really had no idea Tsuki's questions would be this pointed.

"Have you noticed that girl's bodies are different from women's?"

"Sure. They have chichi. And women are softer than girls. Well, _Mom_ is soft. I love hugging her. And Tsunade—hers are huge! They're like giant pillows!"

Kakashi did his best to steer the conversation into more neutral territory. He certainly didn't relish the thought of a conversation about breast size. He had a feeling most of this conversation would be getting back to Sakura. He chose his words carefully, anxious to share the minimum amount of information needed to satisfy the boy's curiosity. "When a person grows up, the body changes. Girls get breasts, and boys change, too. They can grow a beard, and hair grows on their chests—"

"And under the arms. And down there."

"Right. And the… _penis_ gets bigger, too." At least he wasn't blushing, he realized. He had often wondered if children, like wild animals, could sense fear. Not that he was _afraid_, he corrected himself. Just slightly embarrassed.

"I see."

Kakashi looked with relief at the intent expression on Tsuki's face as he processed this information. Sadly, the expression of understanding did not last for long. "But chichi are for milk—it makes sense that they have to get bigger, because women have babies. But why—" the boy stopped to consider the possibilities, brow wrinkled.

No one had told Kakashi about sex at four, or six, or even age eight. It wasn't until he'd inadvertently come across Sensei's copy of _Icha, Icha_ that any questions had even popped into his head. And those had been answered quite graphically by the book, which mysteriously had left Sensei's possession for a while. No uncomfortable conversation with an adult had been necessary to advise Kakashi of the details of reproduction. In fact, by ten years of age, Kakashi had known considerably more about sex than many adults. But age ten, while still quite young to know the ins and outs of sex, was light years more mature than age four. The boy still slept with a stuffed animal! And how long had he been out of diapers? A year? Two?

The copy ninja dipped his head into the pool, then flipped his long, sodden clumps of hair back out of his eyes. There was no way he was going to continue this conversation, he decided. Better to pretend he hadn't heard the last question. He reached beyond the pool's ledge and grabbed the bottle of silver dye he'd set there. Even the label said, "silver," he noted. Sakura definitely had a spiteful streak. She'd probably honed it under Tsunade—he didn't remember any such tendencies in the girl who'd joined team seven. He poured a generous amount of the clear dye into his palm and carefully smoothed it through his hair and over his eyebrows. If nothing else, he'd need to keep his eyes closed for the next twenty minutes. Though kind to the environment, the colorant would not feel good were it to drip into his eyes. And there was no telling what it might do to his lenses. Tsuki was squirming, he noted, as young children are wont to do, but still occupied with his puzzle. His attention span seemed to be a bit longer than that of many genin, the copy nin noted wryly. Kakashi did his best to make himself comfortable against the smooth basalt lining the pool, and had nearly nodded off when his son's triumphant cry disturbed the quiet.

"Oh! I know! I figured it out."

"Hmm?" This should be good.

"It's for making babies, isn't it?" He could feel the pride in Tsuki's voice, along with the slightest hint of amazement.

"What makes you think so?" Better not to acknowledge it directly, as the boy's reasoning might be faulty. Besides, being a bit slippery was a strategy that had worked well for him on many occasions. It was a key attribute of a good liar.

"Well, when I was little, my mom and I were walking to the market, and I saw these two dogs. They were kind of stuck together, so I asked Mom about it."

"And what did she say?" Kakashi did his best to smother the laugh that was threatening to erupt. He truly wished he'd been there to witness that particular conversation.

"Well, first she acted like you. She didn't want to tell me for some reason. And her face got all red, and she started walking faster. But, of course, that didn't stop me. Mom always says there's no harm in asking questions. So I asked her again, and she said that they were wrestling." Kakashi snorted with poorly controlled mirth. "But I didn't believe her, and I told her so." There was a note of incredulity in the boy's voice, presumably at the idea of his mother trying to pull one over on him.

Kakashi waited for the boy to continue. "Finally, she said they were making puppies. So that's what it's for, isn't it? It's not just for peeing."

Kakashi made a noncommittal grunt that could be interpreted as a yes if one were so inclined. He subdued the smile that was beginning to tug at the corners of his lips, cognizant of the absence of his mask. But his smile grew inwardly, as he congratulated himself on a difficult conversation done right. If she'd wanted to embarrass him, she'd certainly succeeded, though it hadn't been quite as bad as it might have been. The boy had figured it out for himself, after all.

But maybe she hadn't intended to embarrass him. This was what fathers did, after all—had difficult conversations with their children. As a sensei, his relationship with Tsuki was somewhat one dimensional. He garnered the respect and admiration that a parent might, but little of the conflict. Maybe giving him this type of job was akin to extending an olive branch—it was her way of reaching out to him. Kakashi decided to interpret it as such. Sakura was a complicated person but she'd never been downright vindictive. More importantly, she was impulsive—she wouldn't have the patience to plan to get back at him in this way. A punch to the face or chest had always been more her style, even before Tsunade had shown her how to increase its forcefulness exponentially.

"But…" If Kakashi's eyes had been open he would have seen the look of consternation on Tsuki's face. But they weren't, and he was therefore unprepared for what came next. "That just doesn't make sense." Kakashi lifted his right lid slightly to regard the boy, who seemed bursting to tell him something.

"Mom doesn't have a chinpoko."

Kakashi choked on his own saliva, and unable to interrupt, listened captive to the boy's remarks.

"So how could she make a baby?"

Where to begin? He should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

"How do you know that, Tsuki?" the copy ninja asked cautiously.

"Well, I've walked in on her a few times in the bathroom and while she was dressing. She got really angry, too. I thought that…"

Kakashi's eyes were wide open now, hair dye forgotten. "_What_ did you think?"

"At first I thought she'd been in an accident, and I felt sorry for her." Kakashi noticed the boy's hand moving downward protectively as he spoke.

"Men and women are built differently, you know."

"Yeah. Mom told me that. She has hair, too. But she shaves it off."

Kakashi gulped as he considered this new piece of information, as well as its source. He'd never thought he'd be envious of his own son. But now, unbelievably, he was. It was completely irrational, to be sure, but that didn't change facts. He was jealous of the innocent peeks of a four-year-old at his mother's landing strip. He shook his head to banish the next thought, which was even more inappropriate. But he'd never been successful at reining in his imagination when it came to sex. And who would have guessed Sakura went in for the paipan look?

"She's always shaving her legs." The boy giggled. "And her armpits!"

_You're a pervert, Hatake. A class-A, over the top pervert. You'd have to be to twist what a four year old said in _that_ way. Sakura's private life is none of your business. Where she shaves, who she fucks, her favorite vegetables—they're none of your concern. And why the hell should you care, anyway?_

Kakashi pulled a lock of hair before his eyes, and satisfied that the color was approaching his own unique hue, and eager to avoid further conversation, dunked his head underwater. He stayed down as long as he could, as he attempted to banish the irrational thoughts that were overtaking him.

Why should he be jealous? Sakura was not a part of his life and never would be. She was merely the unfortunate victim of his alcoholism, saddled with an offspring he'd been unaware of until just days ago. But saddled wasn't the right word—it was clear she didn't think so. She loved her son unabashedly. If she were saddled with anything, it was with the regrettable memories of her past interaction with Kakashi and trepidation for this current mission.

But Tsuki wasn't his only object of jealousy, he realized. He was envious of Yuki, too. Earlier that morning Kakashi had seen Sakura's eyes light up as she'd first glimpsed him. His oversized ego had immediately attributed her reaction to his own good looks, only to be crushed at her subsequent look of horror and rage. It had come to him, as he comforted her, that the look of near joy he'd glimpsed had been a reflexive response to the image of her lover. He'd comforted his teammate and had even opened up slightly, sharing with her, for once, that he did care about his teammates, and always had. But now he realized that the feelings that had unleashed themselves had been tinged with a subtle feeling of inferiority to Sakura's husband. Her _dead_ husband—the man who'd named Kakashi's own son. Who'd brought his former student immeasurable happiness—something he himself had never been able to do for anyone.

To be jealous of a dead man was just plain sick.

Lungs clamoring for air, Kakashi broke the surface, and was greeted with a cool breeze that matched that of the realization flowing past him. He _was_ sick. He wasn't jealous of one dead man, but of every shinobi who had died with honor. He'd laughed earlier, when Sakura asked him if he had a death wish. Of course he did—that had been true for most of his life.

But did he still?

He'd told her that he would protect Tsuki and her with his life. But was this the result of a wish to throw his own life away. It seemed that the answer was, "no." He wanted them to live on, and he now realized he wanted to be there with them. Or with Tsuki, at least. Sakura was probably beyond hope. He'd be thrilled if she managed to tolerate him.

"You look clean enough. Let's get going." Kakashi rose abruptly from the pool and grabbed his last dry tenugui. Tsuki reluctantly followed, and stood dripping by his side.

"My towel is wet," he said in response to Kakashi's questioning look.

Kakashi tossed him his own thin cloth, and air dried instead in the cool morning air. At least it wasn't winter, he thought, although it was still chilly enough that he'd soon be teaching his young student yet another lesson in male anatomy, this one entitled, "Shrinkage."

"Do you think your mom is ready?" Kakashi squeezed the water out of his hair, then shook his head like a just-bathed dog, sending droplets flying everywhere.

"Hey! You're getting me all wet again!"

"Pack another towel next time. What have you got in that pack, anyway? It's bursting at the seams."

"My ninja figures and stuffed animals, and some clothes."

Kakashi smiled. "All the important stuff." The jounin dressed quickly then rifled through Tsuki's pack for a clean change of clothes. This would eliminate the extended dressing session they'd experienced this morning, he hoped.

"Stay away from the mud," he called as a now-dressed Tsuki ran off in search of his mother. The boy was turning him into a mother hen, it seemed. The jounin packed up the remaining items and headed out as well, though he was surprised to find no sign of the young boy as he moved through the forest. He was learning fast.

But there was someone nearby, he realized, as he sensed a distinct absence of chakra. It must be Sakura. She'd probably masked her chakra to avoid becoming an unwary target as she bathed. If this were true, it indicated that her field techniques were a bit rusty, or that she had never learned that it wasn't enough simply to block one's own chakra. He frowned. This was one of many techniques he'd neglected to teach her while she was in his care, and as Tsunade had focused her teaching on the medical arts and taijutsu, it was unlikely Sakura had learned it under her shishou, either. Knowing how to mask ones chakra was only the start—one needed to know a bit more about how chakra worked to make any such effort convincing. Animals tended to vacate the vicinity when humans approached, even humans as quiet as shinobi. That left a hole. Instead of the small and diverse chakra signatures of the many small mammals and birds in the woods, there would be no signatures in the area. In nature, such a chakra hole would only occur in a wood devastated by a blast or forest fire— in other words, when no higher life was present. But as this was clearly not the case in a healthy woodland, a chakra hole usually indicated that a human—a ninja-- was nearby. This wouldn't be a problem if said ninja were tracking a civilian, as civilians typically couldn't recognize chakra, let alone the subtle differences in signatures among humans and animals. But when ninja were tracking ninja, simply masking ones own chakra was quite dangerous. A practiced shinobi would mimic one or more of the animals that should be in the vicinity, to fill this chakra hole.

As Kakashi moved closer to the chakra hole, he spied Sakura immediately. She'd chosen a secluded spot in which to bathe: the small pool was surrounded on all sides by a thick hedge of bramble. There were no overhanging trees from which a person might peep, making it an excellent location for an unaccompanied woman to bathe. However, Sakura apparently had not considered the height of any potential voyeurs. At his own considerable height, Kakashi had no problem finding a hole in the upper, less dense portion of the hedge through which to view her. She seemed to be napping, but this couldn't be true—even with her superb chakra control she shouldn't be able to maintain a mask while she slept. But her eyes were closed, and her face completely restful as leaned against the smooth basalt that formed the edge of the heated pool. She hadn't washed her hair. It splayed across the rim of the pool like the long, satiny feathers of a bird in full plumage. The water was completely still, Kakashi noticed, allowing her breasts to make perfectly formed peninsulas in the surrounding sea. They were still slick with water, smooth and unblemished, though pinkened from the water's heat.

She certainly was attractive when awake, though she was so often annoyed or angry when around him that it was easy to lose sight of her beauty. Resting, though, her features uncontorted by irritation, Kakashi realized she approached perfection. There was a fragile innocence to her beauty, from her delicate features to her fine boned figure.

Not that her beauty was in any way conventional. She still had the overly large forehead that had been her bane as a preteen, although she finally had grown into it, and her features, though delicate, were not soft or curved like those of the typical knockout. Her beauty was all her own, as unique as the soft pink hair that had been her one vanity. It reminded him of something, though it took the copy ninja quite a while to recall the memory.

It was when she stood and stretched that it struck him. In Mizu no Kuni, an island nation surrounded by marshes and rookeries, he'd spent considerable time in a blind. Ostensibly, he and his companions had been hunting the fowl that frequented the tidal flats on the west beaches of the island, though their real target had been larger, human and far less graceful then any of the avians they'd seen. A tremendously large flock of shorebirds fed on the blue-green algae and small insects that populated the flat, and in the nearby marsh other birds fed on the abundance of available food. Some were familiar species, like herons and cranes; others were alien. He'd asked his companion to identify the most striking of these. Kakashi had guessed they might be flamingo, but they lacked the large, dark curved bills and intensely pink plumage of those more well-known birds. These were a paler pink, and more subtle in coloration, though still quite beautiful, and they fed differently, as well, straining water through their large, flattened bills. The bills were unusual in shape, oversized for their relatively small heads, but the birds moved with such poise, and gathered their food with such grace that they were anything but ugly.

They were roseate spoonbills, he had learned from his companions, and Kakashi had spent a good amount of time observing them as they waited for their quarry. He'd watched them dance across the shallow waters of the marsh, their long wings effortlessly propelling them across the untroubled surface, and he'd been awed by their grace as they curved their necks to seek their prey. At the time, something about them had seemed familiar, almost comforting, and now, as he watched Sakura kneeling in the shallow pond he realized that it was the birds' similarity to _her_. As she scooped the warm water to wash her face, then her shoulders, then her breasts, he realized that Sakura was just as beautiful and graceful as that foreign bird. And like that bird, the features that might be considered odd on their own only added to her beauty.

He looked away for a moment, as he considered the likely consequences were she to catch him spying on her. He'd promised he wouldn't peep, and only minutes ago he'd convinced himself that her business was none of his concern. But his head turned back slowly, as if of its own volition, and he quickly excused his behavior by telling himself that as long as she didn't find out there was nothing to worry about. There was nothing wrong in appreciating a thing of beauty, after all, and it wasn't like she was doing anything…private. Besides, Tsuki had piqued his curiosity. He'd been unable to get a clear view of her nether regions when he'd seen her naked before, and now he wanted to know if indeed she _did_ shave _asoko_. And she'd never find out. He was a master of camouflage, after all.

Sakura reached for a bar of soap and a washcloth and quickly lathered up her body, sparking a particularly lascivious fantasy for Kakashi. So many chapters of _Icha, Icha_ began like this— a gorgeous, nubile woman alone in her bath, surrounded by bubbles, back arched to reach an out of the way spot… And now her rump, her gorgeously curvy rump was in the air, as she bent over to retrieve the washcloth. He sighed. She really was absolutely perfect.

"Just turn around," he found himself wishing.

_Just a little bit more—_

He felt a tug on his pants leg, and looked down to see Tsuki looking up at him curiously.

The boy's sensei quickly put a finger to his lips, and was relieved when his student did not immediately voice the question on his lips.

Kakashi allowed his face to fall in a show of disappointment and quickly turned away from the hedge, grabbing the boy's hand as he did so, in an effort to put some distance between Sakura and themselves.

"What were you doing?" Tsuki asked as they moved away.

"There was the most beautiful bird…"

"Really? Why didn't you let me see? I love—"

"It flew away. Sorry. Any luck finding your mom?"

The genin shook his head.

"Well, let's wait for her in the clearing. I'm sure she'll think to look for us there, and I'd like to see your throwing skills."

"Sure!" the boy skipped away, and Kakashi breathed a sigh of relief. What would the boy have done if he'd realized what Kakashi had been up to?

o…o…o…o…o

"So what's our objective in entering Grass first?"

They had paused at a crest on the dirt road that led from Bordertown to the small, unnamed village at the crossing to Kusa no Kuni. They'd made good time, she guessed, considering that they were traveling as civilians, and were therefore limited in their movement. She could see the small village in the valley that lay below them. It's thatched roofs glowed yellow in the late afternoon sunlight, and the flapping cloths of market tents suggested this was a fairly busy, if small village. Hopefully, a warm bed and fairly clean room awaited them there. She swigged water from a flask, then handed it to Tsuki as she listened to Kakashi's characteristically terse response.

"You're wondering why we'd enter such an inconsequential country first?"

"Well, yes. Even Grass's _ninja_ are of little consequence, apart from Zetsu, anyway, and I've near heard anything about their daimyo having influence outside their home villages. It doesn't seem possible that they'd be the source of the new weaponry."

"Exactly."

Her brow furrowed. So why waste their time? But that was one thing Kakashi didn't do—his every action was efficient. She thought for a moment before offering up a hypothesis.

"This is practice, isn't it? You want to see how well our cover fits?"

"Right. To be more precise, I want to give us a chance to work out any bugs before heading into the larger countries."

"What are your concerns?" She had a feeling she knew where this was going, and stiffened unconsciously.

"Us. We need to practice acting as a couple." He grabbed her hand, and squeezed it slightly as she reflexively pulled away. "You just provided the perfect example. If you flinch every time I come near, people will know something's up."

Sakura did her best to relax as she moved closer to him, although she felt his nearness to be disconcerting. This made little sense. They'd spent the night in the same bed, after all, only centimeters apart. And the hand was one of the least sensual parts of the body—why should it bother her if he held it?

Because he was damn handsome without the mask--- more handsome than she'd ever guessed. When she'd seen him with Yuki's dark hair and gorgeous blue eyes, she'd been shocked. For a moment she'd thought it was Yuki. Yuki perfected. And with his own unusual hair color, Kakashi was even more handsome, as stunning as any model she'd seen in the magazines she and Ino had read voraciously as teens.

She'd fantasized for years about the masked man she'd spent one regretful night with—yes, its outcome had been regretful, but the time they'd spent in each others arms had burned itself into her psyche. For better or worse, he was the stick she'd use to measure all other interactions. In the years since Yuki had died, her dreams of love had always been about her late husband, but her dreams of sex had always been about Kakashi. It irked her tremendously that even her subconscious was still tied to him, a man who had almost no redeeming traits. But attraction, she knew, was rarely rational. The person who looked perfect on paper, the man who appeared to be a perfect match for ones hopes and desires often turned out to be anything but. She'd learned that on several blind dates and set ups from well-meaning colleagues. Finally, she'd made peace with the fact that her sexual fantasies had Kakashi in the starring role. It wasn't like anything would ever come of it, after all.

But this was different-- this was like playing with fire. It would be too easy to slip into some relationship of convenience with Kakashi, some shallow interaction based only on sex, but she was most definitely not the "friends with benefits" type. She never had been, and as a parent, she knew that it was completely out of the question.

"What exactly do you mean by 'act as a couple?'" Her voice was low, but betrayed her concern. Thankfully, Tsuki had already headed down the steep incline that led to their destination. A small cloud of dust marked his path.

"I'm not talking about sex, if that's what you're worried about. It wouldn't be outside the realm of this mission—you are a kunoichi, after all—but I know it wouldn't work."

She found herself breathing easier, although his dismissiveness was annoying, to say the least. It wasn't as though she were frigid. Or a piece of meat, either, for that matter. He could be such a pig. She wasn't going to let him bait her, however. She smiled at him, instead.

"So what _does_ it mean?"

"How did you act with Yuki when you went for a walk? When you had company?"

"Like… like good friends, I guess."

He snorted. "_Like good friends._ Did you hold hands? Did you touch each other? Did you have special names for each other? Did you kiss?"

"Yes, of course we—"

"Well, then, that's what we need to practice."

It wouldn't be that bad, she realized. He was talking about the way she'd interact with any close female friend, apart from the kissing. And if she limited the kissing to pecks on the cheeks, she might as well be with a female friend. She'd just pretend he was Hinata, or Yuki's mom. Yes, a middle-aged woman would be perfect. They even had the same color hair. She giggled, then blushed as Kakashi looked at her questioningly.

"Well, I'm glad you're okay with it. We'll have our first lesson as soon as we get to the inn."


	14. Chapter 14 Habituation

_Disclaimer: Naruto and associated characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto. They are not my property!_

Author's note: Sorry for the long delay in posting. I've been sick again (leg problems) and although being laid up in bed might sound like the perfect opportunity to write, pain-killers, I've found, don't mix with fiction. Bizarre, surreal fantasy stories, perhaps, but not this stuff. Thanks for your patience!

**A Book of Five Rings**

**Chapter 14. Habituation**

Grass's hospitality industry was substantially more advanced than Bordertown's, it seemed, if this small, pastoral village were in any way representative of that nation. Despite this, Sakura had frowned as she entered the modestly appointed, though clean lobby of the motel they'd selected for their stay. True, she had agreed that the room she was to share with Kakashi would adjoin her son's, but she wasn't thrilled with the idea of the boy spending his first night alone in a strange country.

"This is what a normal family would do," the copy ninja had replied with a shrug as she'd whispered her concerns to him. He hadn't bothered to modulate his voice, though their conversation had hopefully taken place out of the earshot of the motel's overly curious check-in clerk. She'd looked up, though, as they'd spoke. Perhaps it was the urgency of Sakura's whisper that had tipped off the woman, or perhaps it was the unlikely family the three made. Sakura knew she didn't look her age, and with his grey hair, Kakashi looked older than his own, but she'd quickly decided that it didn't matter what the clerk thought. She could be the town's biggest gossip for all the kunoichi cared. They were just spending a few days here—who cared if the clerk (or the entire town, for that matter) saw Kakashi as a cradle robber or her as a gold digger? Or a Lolita? Or worse?

Now Sakura perched on the edge of the rather narrow bed she was to share with Kakashi. A look around the room assured her that this was the same type of room she'd frequented since her genin days, the cookie-cutter model that afforded no hints about the town or country one was visiting. A machine-quilted bedspread in a loud floral motif dominated the room, and matching curtains completely covered the wall of single-pane windows that undoubtedly looked out upon an uninspiring scene—a row of trash cans, perhaps. It wasn't worth confirming. The adjoining wall was broken up by three doorways—one to a very clean bathroom she'd already inspected, one to a small closet, and the third to Tsuki's room. That door stood ajar, allowing her to hear her son's happy cries as he used his bed as trampoline. She heard Kakashi's low chuckle as well. There was no hiding the fact that the two got along famously.

"Mom! Come here! Watch this!" Sakura moved to the doorway as her son leaped from the bed to the small, upholstered chair halfway across the room.

"Wow. Impressive." She smiled before continuing. "Maybe this should wait until morning, though. People might be sleeping downstairs." It figured that Kakashi would encourage her son in this manner—he'd probably have done so even if he'd had ten times the experience. He was definitely the laissez-faire style of parent, while she was the active—perhaps overly active—type.

_You just called him a parent. You realize that, don't you?_

She frowned in response to this inner rebuke before crossing the room to give her son a kiss. "Lights out. It's long past your bedtime. Would you like me to tuck you in?"

Tsuki looked first at his mother, then to Kakashi and back again. "No. Sensei will do it."

"Oh." She smiled brightly and hoped that her son had not yet learned how to distinguish false emotion from true. "Starting tomorrow, it's 'Dad,' remember?"

"Right! _Dad_, you'll tuck me in tonight, and Mom will do it tomorrow." The small boy burrowed under the blankets, pulling the top sheet up to cover his chin. "This is going to be so much fun!"

"Goodnight, then, Tsuki. Don't forget to leave your side of this door unlocked, and I'll do the same, okay? But keep the exit door bolted—you never know who could be outside--"

The boy rolled his eyes. "Of course, Mom. I'm _genin_, you know. I know how to stay safe. Good night!"

Sakura returned to her room, allowing herself to feel just the slightest twinge of dejection at her son's dismissal, as well as trepidation for the coming evening. Just what had Kakashi meant by "lesson?" He'd mentioned it so casually in their earlier conversation—the need to act as more than good friends, the need for a show of intimacy. That sounded innocent enough. But it wasn't like him to splurge on two rooms, not when a roll-away bed was a satisfactory (and, more importantly, free) solution. He hadn't listened to her suggestion (well, whispered plea, actually) that the three of them share a room. It was therefore fairly obvious that their upcoming study session required privacy. But for what purpose? This wasn't the first time he'd lied to her, she reminded herself.

"Great," she said aloud as crossed the room to peer out of the heavily draped windows. She allowed herself a snicker. The landscape below was the trash-littered back alley she'd expected. Several dented, galvanized cans stood in a less-than-orderly row, lids askew, and a lean dog, on the hunt for rats, no doubt, prowled among them. No matter the country, some things seemed to stay the same-- usually the ugly things. Sakura gently tapped her head against the cool plate glass of the oversized window. This situation was perfect, absolutely perfect, assuming the goal of her life was constant humiliation. It was one thing to use an idealized image of Kakashi as the object of her fantasies. There was absolutely no harm in that, or at least she'd thought so until being interrupted by the object of that fantasy. But even _that_, in the grand scheme of things, had been a minor humiliation, although it had seemed far, far worse at the time. But the idea of being physically intimate with him again—even for the sake of a mission—this was unbearable. It would surely be confusing and upsetting to Tsuki, and Sakura was pretty sure that she'd be unable to keep things on a professional level. Her attraction to her one-time teacher was too strong, and apart from that, too much was still bubbling under the surface. Things had been unresolved between them for years, at least on her side. Kakashi had made it pretty clear that to him their brief interaction had been little more than a quickly forgotten, drunken fuck. For him, things seemed to have been resolved perfectly, long ago.

Sex just didn't mean the same thing to men and women. Nature built each differently. This was one of the first things she'd been taught in kunoichi lessons by her real-world-grounded teachers. And as ninja, it was the female's job to take up that masculine view of sex-- to go beyond it, actually, to use it as a means to an end. Sex was supposed to be one of the finest tools in the kunoichi's arsenal—the one tool against which men were completely defenseless.

For Sakura, it hadn't worked out that way, however. She judged herself complete failure when it came to sex, kunoichi style. She'd never even tried to play the part of seductress-- the idea of the act had always meant too much to her. Even after her devastating introduction to it, sex was still tightly bound, in her mind, to romance. She might as well still be an eleven-year old academy student, flunking her sex-ed practical for the first time.

Did Kakashi really think that sexual intimacy was necessary for this mission? If so, why hadn't he told her sooner? Why did he have to be so damn slippery about it all?

Well, the answer to that was obvious. Apart from the fact that he was slippery by nature, he'd seen her as a flight risk. And rightfully so. It was only in the last day that she'd truly resolved herself to the mission. But his detemination necessity of intimacy changed things, and that he would decide so glibly that sex was an integral part of their mission was disturbing. No, it was infuriating. And depressing. And so very…Kakashi.

"Enjoying the view?"

She hadn't heard him come in. So much for her well-practiced shinobi skills. She turned to see Kakashi fiddling with the dial of the dimly illuminated clock radio that stood next to the bed, pausing repeatedly as he scanned through the few stations that came in clearly. "Music?" she thought as he settled on a station playing a bluesy, meandering instrumental piece. Did he really think they would be that loud?

"You seem upset. You wanted to tuck in Tsuki, didn't you? Sorry if I stepped on your toes."

"It's not that. The closer he is to you, the easier it will be to pull off our family act."

"So what is it? Did I do something else?" He approached her slowly, concern evident in his artificially blued eyes. It was still so strange to see his face unmasked. It added a layer of something—trustworthiness, perhaps—to his every word and action. No wonder the most successful politicians were handsome. It made it that much easier to lie.

"Sakura?" The touch of his hand on her shoulder interrupted her thoughts.

"I don't think I can go through with this."

"Oh? Go through with what?" His eyes really were like Yuki's. Konoha's tech department had outdone themselves.

"Our _lesson_."

"And why's that?"

"Why do you think?" She rolled her own eyes in derision. Sometimes the man, for all his intellect, had the common sense of a fool.

"It's just about habituation, Sakura, nothing more. Come here." He grasped her hand and gently maneuvered her closer to him.

"Habituation? That's what you call this?"

It was Kakashi's turn to look at her strangely. "What are you talking about?"

"I won't—I _can't_ have sex with you, even if it's for the sake of the mission."

The copy ninja laughed, softly at first, then with increasing abandon. "Who said—"

"Be quiet! Tsuki will hear you!"

Kakashi softened his voice after bringing his laughter under control. "Who said we were going to have sex? Is that what you thought this lesson was about? You were _married_, Sakura. Why would you need lessons about sexual intimacy? Besides, I told you only hours ago that this wasn't about that. Weren't you listening?"

Sakura's cheeks burned as she steadfastly looked away. He was right, she realized belatedly. In her anxiety and discomfort she'd managed to turn a molehill into a mountain. "Then what…?" She asked, finally.

"I'm not saying a situation might arise where we might be forced to put on a show. But that's unlikely. So there's no reason our masquerade has to be true to every detail. We're not method actors, after all. As long as we appear to get along—"

"We do get along!" She stiffened as she pushed him away.

He shook his head with silent laughter.

"I disagree. We're civil, I'll give you that, but we should be more than that. Anyone looking at us—and Tsuki-- would assume we've been together for only five years or so. Most marriages hold onto their spark for at least that long, especially May—September romances."

"May—_September_?" Sakura giggled, her indignation forgotten.

He didn't join in her laughter. "Whatever. February—October. My point is you're uncomfortable around me."

"February, huh." Sakura raised an eyebrow. Was this an admission that he had no business sleeping with women 14 years his junior? Perhaps Hatake Kakashi had matured a bit in recent years. "So what's your great plan to fix our interaction?"

"When Pakkun was a puppy, he balked at wearing a collar. I'd already taught him how to speak and he was very vocal about how much he hated even the idea of it—it symbolized submission to him, and apart from that, he said it chafed. But he needed a collar—all summons wear some symbol of their relationship with their summoner—so we worked out a schedule. At first he wore the collar for just a few minutes a day. Then we slowly increased it until finally he could tolerate it full time. This is the same. Simple habituation."

"I'm a dog."

"You recoil at my touch. A wife doesn't react that way to her husband. Even if they're no longer infatuated, they still hold hands, brush each other in passing, you know. The goal is for you to feel relaxed in my presence. I wouldn't go so far as to call it intimacy—I'll settle for a comfortable familiarity."

"Oh."

"The way Tsuki acts around me."

"Tsuki's in love with you." Her face reddened immediately. She hadn't meant to blurt that out.

"You think so?" The revelation seemed to catch him off guard. "Poor example, then." A small smile remained on his lips, and it was clear to Sakura that his shrug of indifference was forced. "Like me and Gai, then."

"He's in love with you, too."

The smile disappeared abruptly.

"That was just a joke." Sakura giggled again. "Now you're as stiff as me."

"Dance with me, Sakura."

"Dance?"

"Dancing? Your solution to this… intimacy problem is _dancing_?"

He nodded.

"Then why did you get two separate rooms? This isn't something we need to hide from Tsuki."

"No—"

"And you're too cheap—"

"I prefer to call it frugal. But in this case… As I said before, this is what families do. A loving husband and wife--even a not-so-loving husband and wife—share a room. The kids get the room next door."

"Right." Her face burned under his gaze, a gaze that seemed equally amused and disdainful. He took her hand, then dropped it, apparently registering her reluctance.

"Just lean against me. You slow danced with Yuki, surely."

Sakura gingerly rested her head against the technical specialist's chest and sighed. "Only a couple of times. The day we got married. And once after Tsuki was born. But for a good part of our relationship he was in the field, or I was too big for him to get his arms around me.

"Well, pretend then. Whatever it takes to get you to relax."

"Mmm." She closed her eyes and did her best to imagine the few times she'd danced with her late husband, but came up short. Kakashi didn't smell like Yuki. The latter had always smelled of an expensive chypre scent—a gift from Jun, he'd said. Kakashi smelled like a ninja of Konoha, scented inadvertently with the pleasant, though unusual combination of moss, machine oil and the black powder used in explosive tags and smoke bombs. It was a comforting smell, she realized, yet strangely exciting, as well.

She felt Kakashi's hand glide along her the small of her back, and willed herself to react positively.

"After Tsuki was born we were usually too tired for anything like dancing."

"Oh?"

"He didn't sleep. You're supposed to sleep when the baby sleeps, so that the 3 a.m. feedings don't kill you, but that's really not possible when the baby refuses to go back down."

Kakashi laughed dryly, but the familiar crinkle of his eyes conveyed his humor. "I'm not surprised he was a handful. He never seems to slow down, does he?"

"I never slept through the night either, or so my mom always told me, so I guess this is my karmic reward. Of course, I really don't believe in karma."

His response was a single grunt, which Sakura interpreted as an emphatic end to their conversation. That was probably for the best. She didn't feel like arguing tonight, and an argument with Kakashi would lead to a draw at best. She returned her head to his chest, closed her eyes again and allowed her mind to wander to the rare occasions she and Yuki had gone out on the town.

Despite the similarity of their eyes, and a vague sameness to their features, Kakashi was completely unlike Yuki, she realized. It wouldn't work to pretend Kakashi was her late husband. Even the way he held her as they swayed was distinct from Yuki, and unlike that man, Kakashi was almost taciturn, commenting on very little. Yuki was a talker. A soothing stream of light conversation had invariably flowed from him, typically a running commentary on current affairs or the most recent gossip. She couldn't imagine Kakashi deigning to notice, let alone comment on such things.

She'd danced with Iruka once. She should imagine Kakashi was he. Iruka was sweet, polite and inoffensive almost to a fault-- in short, a person who was completely non-threatening. And he hadn't talked much either. He'd seemed tongue-tied for the duration of their dance. Sure, Kakashi was taller, but they smelled about the same. If she kept her eyes closed, she could make the substitution.

He was singing softly, she realized, in counterpoint to the melody—the instrumental piece they'd been listening to had apparently changed. She smiled wryly at this new aspect of Kakashi's personality. Musicianship was yet another of his hidden talents. She was surprised to feel herself almost melting against him, soothed by the warmth of his embrace and the near-lullaby of his voice. She pressed her head against his chest, allowing herself a moment or two of complete relaxation. This really wasn't so bad.

"Ow." Her cheek had moved against something solid under his chest, a hunk of metal, no doubt. "What the hell is that?"

Kakashi fished inside his shirt and pulled a leather thong over his head, then held it out for Sakura.

"Wedding rings?"

"I noticed you don't wear one. These were my parents." He pulled a buck knife from his pocket and quickly cut the thong. He slipped the larger ring on his finger and held the other in his palm.

"You've thought of everything, haven't you?" She took the ring and turned the plain gold band in her fingers, then held it up to the light to read the inscription inside.

"_Love conquers all."_

"My dad was a romantic."

"A romantic ninja? How odd."

Kakashi stiffened slightly. "That's what I used to think. But then I realized that this job is all about ideals—protecting the village and people we love at all costs. Putting them before ourselves. And idealism fits hand in hand with romance."

"So _you're_ a romantic?" A snigger escaped her lips.

"That's not what I said." His eyes narrowed slightly as he regarded her. "But just why is that so hard to believe?"

Sakura smiled. "No offense, but you're the most selfish man I ever met. I'm not talking about Kakashi the shinobi—it's obvious you put your team and village ahead of yourself. But off duty—"

"A ninja is never off duty."

She quirked an eyebrow at his textbook response. She couldn't disagree more. She was sure that her off duty moments had saved her sanity on many occasions. "Outside of missions, then—you've never even been in love, have you?" As though she would know. It was only a wild guess on her part, and probably better left unspoken, but he was asking for some semblance of intimacy between them, wasn't he?

Kakashi sighed as he crossed the room and sat on the bed's edge, then flopped back, eyes locked on the popcorn-textured ceiling. Any emotions he felt were indiscernible, and Sakura wondered fleetingly if she'd pushed him a bit too far. He'd never brought up his parents, not in all the years they'd trained together. While she knew about Hatake Sakumo's acknowledged prowess and later malignment, she and her teammates had never heard a word about this from the White Fang's son. Hell, she'd learned more about him in the past few days than in the years she'd spent as his student and teammate. She should apologize to him. It was evident that he was trying his best in a very difficult situation. She didn't have to be so prickly. He hadn't asked for this mission after all. Quite the opposite--

"You're right. There were a couple of times when I was really young that I almost did, but I stopped myself."

Sakura's eyes widened slightly, and she was glad he was still staring at the ceiling. "Work got in the way?"

"That's what I told myself. But I knew better, even then. There have always been couples like Asuma and Kurenai. Half the ninjas in the village come from families like that, and the village is stronger for it."

"So what was it?" Sakura's voice was soft as she crossed the room to perch beside him on the bed. He'd never spoken about such a personal matter before.

"I'd lost too many people by then." He stood, effectively reestablishing his personal space, and pulled off his shirt. "Let's get ready for bed." He switched off the radio, then rummaged in his pack until he located his toothbrush.

Sakura also crossed the room, pulling the tank top and boxers she'd worn before from the top of her pack. She found her path blocked as she tried to enter the bathroom, however.

"I don't think so."

"I'm not going to do a strip tease for you, Kakashi."

"You're not getting dressed in there. That's not what husbands and wives do."

"Why does it matter? There's no one here but us. And you said yourself that we're not--"

"I didn't say I was going to look. I'll turn my back." He swiveled to face the bathroom door.

"Fine." She stomped rather childishly across the room, and after checking to see that his back was still turned, stripped down to her bra and panties. She wadded her clothes up into a ball, took another furtive look over her shoulder, then pulled her tank halfway on before unhooking and pulling off her brassiere. She even more quickly removed her panties and almost jumped into the loose, faded indigo shorts of her late husband. She then turned to see Kakashi's bare backside as he reached to retrieve his shorts from the floor. It was rather pale, in truth, though fully muscled. She blushed.

"And who said _you_ were welcome to look?" How did he know she was staring?

"I can't help myself. You mesmerize me," she said in a voice as dry as she could muster, then leaned against the dresser in a pose she hoped conveyed boredom. "If you're not careful, I may attack you in your sleep."

"I'd better sleep with my knife, then."

"Where did you get it? I've never seen one like it."

"Well, I thought it would be best to put away the ninja tools. This is what a mercenary would carry."

"Oh." He really did think of everything.

"Do you want the first turn?" He stepped away from the bathroom door.

"You mean you're not going to pee in front of me the way husbands and wives do?" Not that she and Yuki had ever done such a thing.

"Well, if you insist…" He strolled into the room, leaving the door fully open as he approached the commode. Sakura was sure she heard his soft giggle as she slammed the door shut. In a moment, the door reopened, and an innocent-faced Kakashi smiled brightly at her. She blinked twice as she realized the expression was exactly the same one Tsuki wore when he was trying to cajole her. Her son really did take after him.

"I left my toothpaste at the last place."

"Idiot."

"This is so… girly." He removed the cap from the small pink tube she proffered and tasted a small ribbon of the paste.

"Cinnamon is not girly. And beggars can't be choosers."

"I never beg."

"No?" She grabbed the toothpaste from him and began to walk away.

"You're the one smelling my breath. That bed is pretty narrow, you know."

"Good point." She handed the tube back to him. "But who says you're sleeping in my bed?"

"Lesson's not done yet." He smirked before turning towards the mirror. "Your expression is priceless. Relax, Sakura. Please?"

She smiled. "That was begging, you know."

"Wuh lee hu hoo ah laes."

"What language are you speaking? You look like a rabid dog."

Kakashi spat into the sink and wiped his mouth before continuing. "We need to choose our names."

"Oh, right. Move over." She quickly brushed her teeth, then pushed Kakashi out of the small room.

"What are your ideas?" She asked as she reentered the bedroom and climbed into bed. "Hayate Takashi?"

"Very original." Kakashi reached to turn off the bedside light. "You're going to fall out of bed. You realize that, don't you?"

"I'm fine." But he was probably right, she thought, as she was huddled at the very edge of the mattress. She attempted to wriggle in a bit, only to have Kakashi scoop her towards him, as though she were his long-lost teddy bear.

"What are you doing?"

"Habituation. Dancing is obviously not going to be enough. But if we're close, physically, for extended periods of time, we'll react more naturally to each other."

Any effort to free herself, save a chakra-laden punch to the gut (or elsewhere) would be futile, she knew. That was the problem with her type of strength—it was an all or nothing deal. She was now tucked neatly between his torso and arm, her head resting, again, on his chest.

"There's no way I'll be able to fall asleep like this."

"Too much man for you?"

"No. Jerk. It's uncomfortable, and I can hear your heart beat…"

"Proving that I'm human."

"It's annoying."

"Well, if you can't sleep, we can talk. Any other names you've considered? Apart from Takashi, that is."

"I think Tsuki should keep his own name. It will be too confusing for him, otherwise."

"Agreed. And you?"

"I don't know."

"I think we should keep Sakura for you, too. What else would you name a pink-haired child? Besides, you're not in the bingo books. Yet."

"Well, that makes things easier. And you?"

"Well, my fall-back name will be Yuki Fuyuno, to match our travel docs. For my alias I was thinking Musashi. It sounds enough like Kakashi that I'll respond to it if anyone calls me by my first name."

"Fuyuno Musashi? That sounds stupid."

"It would be stupid to use Fuyuno if we're trying to hide that identity. I was thinking of Miyamoto as the surname."

"Why?"

"It was my mom's maiden name."

"You _are_ sentimental."

Kakashi sighed. "No. It's tactics. I recognize the name Miyamoto, so I'll be more likely to respond to it."

"Miyamoto Sakura. Miyamoto Tsuki. Sounds okay, I guess."

"Good."

"So what about tomorrow? What's our purpose here, apart from practicing acting like a family?"

"We'll see. Grass is a small country, and this is a small village, but the daimyou has considerable power and connections. We may be able to find out whether trade has picked up here or nearby, or if there have been other changes in the economy."

"You're assuming that if the villagers were involved in the weapons trade that they'd have more money to spread around?"

"Precisely. Something should be amiss. You remember the grass visitors to Konoha years ago, don't you? They were wearing straw raincoats. Grass is poor. Did you notice on the way in how small the homes were? This hotel is a bit of an anomaly, but guests are usually taken good care of, even in poor countries."

"And if they're not involved?"

"I can almost guarantee they're not involved. And in that case, we can treat the next few days as a vacation of sorts."

"Mmm. Sounds good."

…o…o…o…o…o…

Kakashi gently extracted his arm from under the sleeping Sakura and slid out of bed. Sleep would not be forthcoming, he knew, not with his carnation-haired partner curled next to him. That was his fault, of course. He shouldn't have demanded that they sleep so close together. He should have taken the floor. But he was concerned that they wouldn't appear to be married. The clerk's disdainful look, first at him, then at her, had confirmed to him that their cover needed serious work.

His insomnia, however, was nothing that a glass or two of shochu wouldn't fix. There was a bar right across the road, if he remembered correctly. But of course he'd remembered correctly. He always took the lay of the land when entering a new village, or any new environment. That was Shinobi 101. But he also marked out the location of life's necessities, and for him, the key necessity was a ready source of alcohol.

He quickly dressed, pocketed the room key and gently closed the door behind him. Sakura wouldn't notice if he was gone for an hour or so. She was, and had always been a heavy sleeper. Besides, there would be definite benefits to scoping out the village this late at night: people tended to lower their guard when they drank, and by eleven p.m. or so, it was quite easy to glean information from them. In fact, in most cases, they offered it willingly.

And it wasn't as though he were drinking strictly to become inebriated. A glass or two of shochu would produce only a slight buzz of intoxication, and technically, he was doing it to advance the mission. It was therefore quite different than drinking on the job. He never did that while on a mission—not unless his cover called for it. It would be difficut, for instance, to seduce a target without the help of freely flowing liquor.

There was also the fact that he hadn't drunk in days, and his body was feeling the effects of alcohol deprivation. It was nothing as obvious as the shakes or cold sweats he'd felt on certain occasions. It was more like a gentle, ever-present nag, accompanied by a feeling of malaise. His skin hurt. It had the sensitivity he'd felt just before coming down with the flu. A glass or two would fix it, though. He'd been through this before.

Kakashi sauntered across an empty street and into the dimly lit bar. It was nearly empty, he noticed. There were only two patrons at the bar, and a couple more seated in shadowy booths that lined the room's periphery.

"You're new here, aren't you?" was the greeting he received from a blank-faced bartender. "Our bars are run as keeps, you know. I can only serve the alcohol you store here."

Damn. He'd forgotten about that. Grass had strange, almost puritanical laws concerning drink. Alcohol was legal, but drinking establishments could not sell it. That honor was reserved for government sponsored package stores. Kakashi noted the profusion of marked bottles on the mirrored shelves behind the bartender.

"Where is the nearest store?"

"Problem is they're closed at this time of night. Looks like you're stuck, buddy."

"No, Jai. Serve him from mine." A salt-and-pepper haired man stepped behind the counter and smiled at Kakashi. "We have to treat our visitors right."

"Yes, sir."

"You're a shochu man, I'd wager." Kakashi nodded. "Like me. Kagoshima?"

"Sounds great."

The man grabbed the two filled glasses as well as the bottle from the bartender and carried them to a table, beckoning Kakashi to follow.

"Kampai."

Both emptied their glasses in a single, extended gulp, and Kakashi smiled inwardly as he felt the highly alcoholic beverage warm his esophagus. He'd feel better soon—probably within minutes.

"So what brings you to Grass? It's clear you're not from this country."

"My family and I recently left Waterfall. We're looking to settle down, eventually, once we find work."

"Mostly farm work and shepherding here."

"I'm not averse to that. I'm able bodied and willing to work."

"It's seasonal work, though, and planting is done. Wheat is different from rice. There's less hand weeding to do. We use oxen and cultivators."

"Ah. I've only grown rice."

"Not surprising if you're from Waterfall. Fighting bad?"

"Bad enough, and getting worse. Definitely not the place to raise a child."

"We're poor here, but I think you'll find us friendly enough." Kakashi lifted his glass as the man signaled to pour him another drink, but declined when Kakashi attempted to return the favor.

"I've got books to balance. Never a good idea to do that under the influence." He rose, and smiled. "I hope you enjoy your stay here. Enjoy the rest of that bottle. It's on me." He moved across the room, greeting each of the few patrons in turn, but lingering for a moment at the farthest table. A woman was seated there, but all Kakashi could make out of her was her two, long and rather attractive legs. A votive candle was the booth's only lighting, and the sphere of light it cast was too dim to make out any surrounding details.

He should go, Kakashi thought as he downed the contents of the glass. Two drinks were enough, and if he stayed any longer it was likely that he'd finish the bottle. Besides, he'd accomplished his two objectives in entering the place. He'd taken the edge off the mild withdrawal he was suffering, and he'd found out a little about the village in the bargain. It was exactly as he'd expected, a run-down, podunk village with nothing to offer but wheat, field of grass, and sheep. And surprisingly good shochu.

"Jiro said I should stop by." A tall blonde, undoubtedly the owner of the legs he'd spied moments earlier leaned against the table. Her eyes, an unusual golden shade, perfectly matched the rich, warm color of her hair, and at the moment, they communicated amusement. She was, simply put, a knockout, and did her best to advertise this fact. She was obviously wearing some form of undergarment that pushed her breasts up and out, as though they were produce on display—fresh, firm and oversized. It was apparent, though, even in the poor light of the bar, that she wore her makeup a bit too thickly, and the perfume that had announced her appearance mixed unappetizingly with the smoke from the cigarette she held in her hand. All in all, she was just his type: gorgeous, seemingly easy, and expecting little more than a one night stand. Too bad he was married. He was certainly willing to bend the rules a bit when it came to alcohol, but he was completely unwilling to compromise the fragile trust he'd established with Sakura. The mission meant too much. And so, come to think of it, did she and Tsuki.

"I'm guessing from your blank stare that you have no idea what I'm talking about. Jiro's the owner of this place. Didn't he tell you his name?" She seated herself without hesitation. Apparently she was a person who didn't stand on courtesy. "I'm Mizushima Izumi."

"And?" He was not in the mood for a come-on, no matter how attractive its source.

"He said you were looking for work. As luck would have it, I've been looking for employees."

"Ah. And what does this work entail?"

"Well, to be honest, that depends. It's obvious that you're a soldier of some kind." She smiled. "I'm right, aren't I? A deserter from Waterfall, I'd guess."

"I'm not a soldier."

"Not anymore, right? Well, that's okay. I'm not looking for a soldier, just someone with a soldier's instincts." She laid her hand on his, and in the glow of the single small candle that lit the table, Kakashi noticed her perfect manicure, her nails a deep orange color to complement the gold of her hair. A glittering rock decorated her finger. It must be worth 1000 ryo at least. His first assessment had been wrong--she wasn't his type. This woman far exceeded the quality of his usual fare. She seemed a tart at first glance, but she was too expensively clothed, too pampered physically to be the usual barfly. Not desperate enough.

"Again, what does this work entail?" He moved his hand away to lift his glass.

"Security mostly. Maybe more. Again, that would depend on you. You know how it goes. Jai!" She snapped her fingers. "Another glass here, please." She was imperious, as though she owned the place. If nothing else, she was obviously a regular and on very good terms with the owner. She could be useful, he realized. Best not to seem too eager or too cool.

"Excuse my rudeness, but exactly who are you? What is your line of work?"

"I'm the daimyou's cousin. He engaged my brother and me to help with some business transactions."

The daimyou's cousin? His well-schooled features did not betray the satisfaction he felt upon hearing this. "And why do you need security?"

"These are dangerous times. Pour me a drink." The bartender had arrived with the requested glass.

"Ah. I really don't think that type of job interests me."

"You're joking, right? Jiro said you had no prospects. Are you afraid of the law? You're a deserter, aren't you?"

"No, just a man tired of traveling, who needs to go home to his wife."

"Here's my card. Stop by if you change your mind. I pay very well."

He was wrong, Kakashi realized as he crossed the street and entered the hotel. He'd been completely wrong in his assessment of Grass. Something was definitely going on here.

So much for their presumed vacation.


	15. Chapter 15 Warmth

A Book of Five Rings

Chapter 15 -- Warmth

They were dancing again, and Sakura felt the same sense of encompassing comfort she'd felt earlier that evening. The warmth enfolding her was soothing, and his hand on her lower back casual, as though he felt it belonged there. Strangely, it felt that way to her as well. She didn't feel put off by Kakashi's presumption that it was okay to touch her in a near-erogenous zone. On the contrary, and quite surprisingly, she realized that she was almost glad of it. It felt good to touch another in a non-motherly way.

The melody was the same as the one she'd heard earlier that evening, and his voice was as rich and smooth as the dark, malted rice syrup she'd loved as a child. It was funny that he was able to sing. So many things about him were not as she had expected. His smile, though not lopsided, was as enchanting as her husband's, and if she were absolutely truthful with herself, Kakashi was even more handsome than she'd ever expected. Even his scar, a thing that disfigured most ninja, added to his looks. He was nothing like Yuki, for whom personality was the major component of charm.

She missed dancing with her husband. If she'd had their short time together to live over, she would have savored it, and wrung every droplet of happiness from the cloth of their experience. She would have appreciated every moment, and done her best to experience each fully. Certainly she would have made sure they danced more. She missed the sweet intimacy and familiar comfort of holding him so closely. His touch had made her feel at ease, had swept away any concerns or worries. More importantly, it had made her feel unconditionally loved. For a minute, Yuki stood in Kakashi's place, and she smiled into his familiar, sight-dimmed eyes. He chuckled before kissing her on the nose, moving his hand from her shoulder to swat her lightly on the behind.

_--I miss you. Terribly_.

He didn't respond. Instead he pulled her close and kissed the crown of her head, then slowly ran his fingers through her hair.

_--Yuki?_

She pulled away to read his expression, and frowned as she noticed the curve of his crooked smile—he wore the trembling semi-grin that always preceded a laugh.

_--What's so funny?_

_--The past is gone, Sakura. Let go._

_-- I don't want to let go._

His laugh resonated through her, warmth rippling in its wake.

_--I'm already gone. _

He lifted her chin, and kissed her before continuing.

_--You should forgive him._

And then he did go, fading quickly into the flesh of her former teacher. Kakashi seemed oblivious to this transformation, although his embrace was a bit more secure than before. She realized that she didn't mind. It felt good to be held.

Should she? _Could_ she forgive him?

Yes, she suddenly realized. She'd seemed incapable of it before, too filled with pent-up emotions to see him as anything but an object of her righteous anger. But now, she saw he was more. He'd demonstrated that to her. He did care, in his own stunted way, for others. He cared for Tsuki—that was obvious. He'd offered to remove himself from the boy's life, and in the hours since then, she'd realized that such an action would hurt him deeply. Still, his offer had been real, and unsolicited.

He wasn't perfect. Far from it. He was a stinking alcoholic, a serial womanizer, a chauvinist. But, she realized, he was none of those things around Tsuki. He had little to offer, but he was offering it fully.

Surely she could do this. Surely he'd earned it. Sakura sighed as she breathed in her partner's fragrance. Machine oil. Black powder. The slightest hint of sweat. All things she associated with their shared profession-- things that reminded her of their shared obligations.

Machine oil, sweat …and menthol cigarettes? He smelled like an ashtray, she realized as she woke with a start. Worse, she was pressed tightly against his bare chest, his arm securing her in a rather intimate and uncomfortable position. And his other hand, she belatedly noticed, was lodged between her lower thighs. Thankfully, he was still asleep, as evidenced by his regular, shallow breathing. Pulling her close must have been an unconscious response to sharing his bed with another. She should think nothing of it. Perhaps he normally slept with a teddy bear. Or, more likely, an inflatable vinyl doll, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Certainly nothing of the warm-blooded kind. At any rate, he wasn't responsible for the acts of his subconscious, no matter how tempting it might be to blame him.

Sakura blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim, unfamiliar room, and it took a moment for her to get her bearings. Grass. They were in Grass, and Tsuki was right next door. It was probably five a.m. or so, judging from the greyed light that filtered in through the gaps in the room's heavy drapery. Her son, ever the early bird, would likely be pounding on the door in an hour or so. She should try to get back to sleep. It was good practice to sleep whenever the opportunity presented, and particularly when the surroundings made it easy to do so. One never knew when the situation might change.

She carefully dislodged Kakashi's hands, then wriggled out of his grasp to retreat to her own territory, fortifying it with a pillow for good measure. The blankets were tangled up below the copy-ninja: somehow he'd rearranged the bedding as he slept. Sakura did her best to get comfortable without the aid of a blanket, or even a top sheet. Thankfully the room was warm enough to do without. Sleep was elusive however, and her mind quickly filled with the images of her recent dream.

She hadn't dreamed of Yuki once in the past two years. At first, he'd filled her dreams, and they'd talked every night. Her days had been filled with longing for his nightly visits, and his loving gaze and beautiful laugh had guided her through the worst of her pain. Then he'd slowly faded away.

But he'd returned tonight, the same smiling phantom she remembered, though less talkative than in the past.

The dancing must have triggered it, her rational mind decided. She hadn't danced with anyone since Yuki's death. In truth, she'd had no physical contact with anyone except Tsuki. She'd even shied away from the consoling hugs and handshakes that had been expected at her parents' funeral. She hadn't wanted to be touched, hadn't wanted to take part in even the most cursory intimacy expected among colleagues and former neighbors.

That had to be it. Her dream had been a product of her proximity to another.

So why had Yuki's only words been about forgiveness?

That was easy-- a part of her already knew the answer. Her anger was eating her up inside. The real Yuki, were he still alive, would have agreed wholeheartedly with what his dream self had expressed. He hadn't held grudges, not even against the hateful supervisor who had rejoiced in his losses. Yuki was right. She did need to let go. Not only for Tsuki's sake, but for her own. Kakashi hadn't known she was pregnant. Yes, he'd acted abominably when he pushed her aside, but she and Tsuki had made their way without him. He wasn't asking for anything now. He wasn't forcing himself on either of them. It really was time to move on.

She turned to face Kakashi, noting the slackness of his jaw, and the dampness of the pillow next to his cheek. She repressed a giggle at the sight of the drooling mirror ninja. He was completely relaxed. She'd never watched him sleep before, she realized. She'd never seen him so unguarded. It was completely un-shinobi.

Such a strange dream. Had she imagined the scent of stale smoke? He hadn't smelled that way the previous evening. Maybe it was the bedding. Cigarette smoke tended to linger in hotel rooms—perhaps they'd mistakenly been given a smoking room. But no, the bedspread was fine, as were the sheets, blanket and even her pillow.

She pushed the makeshift barrier aside and gingerly moved closer to the still-sleeping man beside her. She inhaled tentatively, her eyebrows immediately lowering into an angry glower.

Bastard. He'd snuck out while she was asleep. Worse still, there was definitely alcohol on his breath. No wonder he was sleeping so soundly. She backed away in disgust, but not quickly enough. With a grunt and a snort he shifted in the bed, trapping her under his tattooed upper arm.

She was strong enough to push his arm aside—there was no question of that. She could break the offending limb with the merest summoning of chakra. The problem was that his sudden movement had knocked the air out of her. By the time she regained her breath, she realized he was muttering. Most of it was unintelligible, but she did catch the words, "gorgeous ass." She glanced at his face, noting the movement of his lidded eyes. He was dreaming.

"You must be a dancer." Sakura winced as his hand slid down her side to cup her posterior, and she stifled a yelp when he squeezed it appraisingly. "Rock hard. Just the way I like it."

Sakura smiled wryly at this latest revelation about the copy ninja—not only did he use the most tired pick up lines, but he talked in his sleep. Quite a bit.

If she moved he would awaken. She was sure of it—dreams often ended in a transitory period of wakefulness. And that certainly wouldn't do. Things were finally getting better between them and if she were to rouse him now, he'd either laugh at her discomfort or become even more taciturn than usual. Either course would result in embarrassment and set them back as a team. Tsuki would notice their discomfort, as well. She was a kunoichi-- she could tough it out until the dream ended. She comforted herself with the cold and reliable fact that REM sleep might last as little as ten minutes. That wasn't long: he'd fall into a deeper slumber afterward, and she would do her best to erase this incident from her mind. This wasn't a wakeful act, after all. These were simply the words and actions of the sexual animal that lay under the civilized veneer of every man. She should just think of the next few minutes as another exercise in habituation, or continuing education in kunoichi studies.

What was strange, though, was that his body was moving. He should be paralyzed if he were dreaming—motor functions shut down during REM sleep, probably to protect the body from enacting what was dreamt. But he was moving and he _was_ dreaming. There was no way he'd be able to fake the rapid eye movements that had been constant for the past few minutes. Maybe this had to do with his drinking. Alcohol was known to cause sleep disturbances, and it stood to reason that years of heavy drinking would have had some effect on his nervous system. She gazed critically at her impromptu patient.

His smile was different, she noted, from any she'd seen since his unmasking. This one seemed a bit sly, and a bit cocky.

"Your place? Or were you thinking of a quickie?"

His hand slid up her side, and she found herself willing it to stop at her waist. No such luck. It came to rest on her breast, and she shuddered with a strange combination of revulsion and scientific curiosity. These thoughts did not prevent her body from responding to his touch, however.

"Nice." His hand kneaded expertly kneaded her flesh.

"I'll be right back. I just need to take care of something." Hopefully, this would work. She'd read somewhere, once, that sleep-talkers sometimes responded to suggestions. She slid out of the bed and headed quickly, but silently across the room.

"Don't take too long." The sleeping Kakashi rolled onto his back, an expectant grin on his face.

As she expected, his dream continued despite the fact that she was no longer in the bed. Sakura stood in the bathroom doorway, and was surprised to realize that she wanted to watch his dream continue to unfold. It was simple scientific curiosity, of course.

_That's ridiculous. You're as bad as he is. Lowlife voyeur. Your nose will probably start bleeding any time now._

But still, she did not move.

"That's good. Like that." An expression of sheer pleasure graced Kakashi's face.

The erection she expected to see—it was a standard part of dreaming for men—was fully evident beneath the boxer briefs he wore. He shifted, as though to allow his phantom partner better access, and groaned with what could only be satisfaction. It was clear that he was dreaming of being pleasured in a very specific way. It figured, she told herself, that his sexual fantasies involved being serviced by another. That fit completely with his selfish nature—it would be shocking to learn his dreams involved something intended to be mutually pleasurable.

"Slow down. We've got all night."

He was dreaming of a blonde, most likely, an amalgam of all the barmaids and barflies he'd ever been with. Apparently, she was good. He looked like he would climax any minute now. She felt dirty, suddenly—not at the physical response she was witnessing, but at the fact that she shouldn't be there to see it.

_So why are you still watching? You're better than this, aren't you?_

Sakura stiffened as her mind drew the contrast between her own dream and his. Hers was filled with longing, his with lust. Still, she would move on. She would forgive him for the past-- she had to. But here was ample evidence that Kakashi would never able to offer more to her or her son than he already had. Sakura moved quickly to the door connecting their room to Tsuki's, opening and shutting it as quietly as possible. There was no sense in watching the conclusion.

…o…o…o…o…

This wasn't the best way to start a new day. Kakashi couldn't remember the last time he'd had a dream like this one—one replete with body fluids, that is. It had been at least ten years, if he remembered correctly. And that made sense: there was normally no need for his body to respond to a sex dream in this way. He was sexually quite active, and his needs were typically well met. It helped, of course, that he was less than picky, but intoxication did tend to lower ones standards a bit. It had only been in the last week or so that things had changed. Add to that the fact that he'd been pressed against a kunoichi for a good portion of the evening, and it made sense that his body would react as it had.

Central casting had apparently supplied the long-legged blonde he'd met earlier as his dream's female star, and it wasn't until well into the story that she'd morphed into the person he had least expected. It had been Sakura that had licked him into submission, Sakura who had brought about the very unexpected, yet very real physical release. Her eyes had been locked on his the entire time, agleam with the novelty of acting the seductress. This dream Sakura had been quite adept in her role, her pluck and tenacity serving her well. What's more, she'd enjoyed every second of it, seemingly reveling in her power over him.

What this said about his relationship with the real Sakura, he could not surmise. Likely the dream was far more than sexual. But even that aspect was surprising. Although Sakura was beautiful, more so than he remembered, he'd done his best not to think of her as a sexual being. It was difficult, to be sure, as he wasn't made of stone, but he'd thought he was succeeding. He regretted their brief, past interaction, aside from its product. It had been wrong to take advantage of a student as he had, even wrong to think of her in that regard. So he'd done his best to push that aspect of her out of his mind. Apparently, however, she still had a home in his subconscious.

He'd been thankful to find the real Sakura not in the room when he woke from the dream, just moments after its conclusion. In the dream, at least, he'd uttered her name. But she was probably next door. Maybe his snoring had scared her away. One could hope so, anyway.

He shouldn't have danced with her, shouldn't have insisted they share a bed, shouldn't have pressed against her in the night. If she had any inkling of what he'd dreamed, she'd likely kill him.

Kakashi headed for the bathroom and an evidence-cleansing shower. She wouldn't think twice upon seeing his wet shorts draped over the shower rod, would she? Perhaps he should just stuff the garment into his pack and deal with it later. It would probably mildew, though, and start to stink. Sopping wet and clad only in a towel, Kakashi returned to the room to rummage through his pack, grabbed a t-shirt, and after wetting it and wringing it out, hung it next to its neighbor on the shower rod. Problem solved—there was nothing unusual about doing a bit of mid-journey laundry. He smiled through the rest of a very hot shower, turning off the water only after it ran cold. His smile broadened as it dawned on him that he didn't have a hangover, not even a hint of headache or dehydration. The hair of the dog had been just enough, it seemed.

He returned to the room to find Tsuki, still clad in his footed pajamas, jumping on the bed while Sakura fiddled with the room's electric kettle.

"I assume you'll want o-cha?"

"That would be great." The copy ninja grabbed his pack and headed back to the bathroom.

"I'm afraid that's not what families do, Kakashi. There's nothing wrong with a son seeing his father dress." She smiled sweetly. "And I promise I won't look." She turned back to the kettle, and the large wooden box she'd brought with her. It was an apothecary chest, he noted, as he watched her open and shut drawer after drawer until she found the one containing simple green tea.

"Good morning, Sensei—I mean, Dad. Watch this!" The boy somersaulted off the bed, grinning madly as he rose to his feet.

"Nice." Kakashi smiled as he poked his head out from the black turtleneck he'd pulled from the top of his pack, then sat on the edge of the bed as he pulled on a pair of faded jeans.

"How about this?" Tsuki climbed onto the bed, then bounded into a semi-backflip, stopping midway through to cling, batlike, to the ceiling.

"Good technique. But you realize chakra-based techniques are off limits on this mission, right?"

The boy looked stricken. "Why?"

"Because we have to fit in. Regular kids your age won't be using chakra. You need to fit in, so that you can find out what's going on."

"Your mom's right." Kakashi nodded in thanks to Sakura as she handed him his morning tea. "Ugh. This smells terrible."

"Oh. Sorry. That's _my _tea." She removed the offending cup, replacing it with the other one she held."

"Why on earth would you drink something that vile-smelling?"

"It's kunoichi tea," she answered as though that explained things fully.

"What's kunoichi tea, Mom?"

"Something that's good for women."

"How can something nasty be good for you?"

"Same way broccoli, cabbage and cauliflower are good for you. You think they're nasty, don't you?"

Tsuki shrugged before returning to his acrobatics, dodging imaginary shuriken and kunai as he bounded across the room.

"I think they serve breakfast downstairs. It's early, but they should be open by now."

"Tsuki, get dressed. We'll be leaving in a moment." Sakura turned to Kakashi as the boy left the room. "So how was the night out?"

"Ah." The copy ninja scratched his head in embarrassment. "Good, actually. Turns out I was wrong about this place." He tried not smile as he noticed Sakura's look of obvious surprise.

"I do admit when I'm wrong, you know, although I can see why you'd be a bit shocked. I'm not wrong that often."

Sakura perched beside him on the bed, taking a large sip of her rather pungent-smelling beverage before speaking. "So what did you find out on this…reconnaissance mission?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure. But there's more going on here than meets the eye. The owner of the bar across the way introduced me to a woman who claims to be a cousin of the daimyou. Problem is, there is no way she's a native of grass. Her name, her coloring, even her pattern of speech was pure Mizu no kuni."

"Don't daimyou's families intermarry to secure their power?"

"Yes, but typically they stay within the larger clan. At worst, they'd stay within their own country. But in this case…"

"You're thinking of the trade embargo."

"Right. Mizu and Grass have never gotten along. It's obviously not a border issue. Mizu's conflicts have always been about either trade or conflicting ideology."

"Did she claim to be from Mizu?"

"No. She only claimed to be the daimyo's cousin—she and her brother. But it was pretty obvious." He paused as he noticed his partner's look of puzzlement. "You've never seen a Mizuan up close, have you?"

"No. I don't remember seeing any at either of the chunnin exams. I think I may have seen one in Waterfall, but he was wearing some kind of snorkel."

"Technology they obtained through trade. Fits nicely with the water jutsu. Their people are extremely homogeneous—they were a closed society for a thousand years, and haven't welcomed outsiders even after they opened up to trade. They consider themselves genetically pure and want to stay that way. Hair and skin color can vary, but one thing is always the same: their eyes are an extraordinary color."

Sakura raised her eyebrow.

"It's gold."

"Tan? Like Tsunade?"

"No, not quite like amber. It's almost as though they glow—like cats' eyes. Quite beautiful, really, and unmistakable, once you've seen them."

"Huh. So you think Grass has been infiltrated?"

"Maybe. Or perhaps they've formed a new alliance. Mizu outstrips all other countries when it comes to trade. They could be the source of the new weaponry, even if they haven't developed it themselves."

"So what's the plan?" Her voice was dry. "I assume you've already come up with one."

"Look for work."

"You mean infiltrate the daimyou's staff."

"No."

"Too obvious. I get it."

"I asked about work last night—the bar owner was pretty clear that there's only seasonal agricultural work to be had, and little of that. But the daimyou's cousin—Mizumi—"

"On a first name basis, are we?"

"She pegged me as ex-military right away. Assumed I was AWOL from the Waterfall army."

"That's good, right? Your cover fits."

"I'm sure they assume anyone from Waterfall is a deserter. But she offered me a job, based on it."

"And you didn't accept?" Sakura looked incredulous, and Kakashi couldn't help smiling. She might know the field of medicine better than most other medics, but she had next to no knowledge about deep cover. Maybe he could do a better job at teaching her this topic than he had done at basic genin skills.

"No, it's not good to seem too eager. She offered me a position—as bodyguard, I think—"

"You think?"

"I turned her down when she wouldn't give details. I have a feeling she'll approach me again. She doesn't seem like the type who's used to hearing 'no'."

"And in the meantime? How much money did Tsunade give you to feed us? Won't it look suspicious for us to be here without visible means of support? This isn't a vacation destination, after all."

"We'll both look for jobs today." Kakashi got up and picked up the dark wooden apothecary chest. "Tsunade was obviously planning on you putting your talents to use. Every town needs a healer."

"What makes you think they don't already have one?'

"One way to find out."

"I can't find my shoes." A beleaguered-looking Tsuki stood in the doorway. "I've looked everywhere."

"Under the bed?"

"Umm… no." The boy ran off and Sakura turned to Kakashi, apparently intent on getting in the final word.

"So much for the vacation, I guess. Do you really think we'll be able to pull off the family act?"

Kakashi reached for her hand to help her from the bed. "As I said, one way to find out."

…o…o…o…o…

"Tsuki!" Sakura quickly pushed through the market crowd toward the sound of her son's wailing. "I told you not to run off!" She found him next to a wall that would be several centimeters taller than him, if he were standing up. He grimaced in pain, and Sakura's eyes widened slightly as they moved over his lower leg. It was ever so slightly bent outwards, though not from the knee joint.

"I f-fell. Off the w-wall." His voice shook as he tried to avoid the inevitable tears. "My leg really hurts, Mom. Can you fix it?"

"No, honey." That wasn't true, of course. Although the bone was probably broken, she very well could fix it, using her normal complement of medical ninjutsu. But that would take time, and a crowd was gathering. Enough had already seen his leg to make a rapid, chakra-based cure a very bad idea. Sakura knew full well how quickly word got around in small towns. If she attempted to heal his leg, their cover would be blown before the end of the day. Even if she healed it later, one or more villagers would notice that he was walking and soon the "miracle" would be the talk of the town. Poor Tsuki. He was in for a rough day.

"Is there a doctor anywhere nearby?" Sakura addressed the woman closest to her.

"We have a healer, but her office is closed."

"Is she away?"

"No, this is her usual day off. But you could try her—she lives next door to the clinic. Shiro, could you take this lady and her son to Katayama-sensei's office?" A strapping teenager stepped forward, and helped Tsuki into his mother's arms.

"We'll have to splint it before moving him. Is there a stick, or even some rolled up newspaper I could use? And a couple of rags or furoshiki?"

A murmur went through the crowd as the teenager pushed through, and Sakura found herself quickly supplied with the necessary tools. She crooned to Tsuki as she wrapped his leg tightly, then nodded to the lanky older boy that she was ready.

"It's not far," he said before loping off ahead of them.

Sakura followed slowly, careful not to make sudden movements that Tsuki would likely find jarring. She whispered to him as they walked, comforting him as well as she could. She rested her hand above the break, and as soon as they entered a more quiet street, began applying just enough chakra to begin to numb the pain.

"Better?"

"Yes. A little."

"I can't do too much—when you see the healer, it needs to seem like it's really broken. If you don't feel any pain, she'll be suspicious."

"Why can't _you_ fix it?" His tears quickened as he whispered plaintively.

"Because we're on a mission, darling. We can't use jutsu."

"I know. That's why I fell."

"And I _will_ fix it, just not quite yet. Be tough—you're genin, remember?"

He blinked twice, then lowered his brows in an effort to shake the pain off.

"I'm genin. I can handle this."

"I'm proud of you, Tsuki. You shouldn't have been on the wall, but it must have been hard not to break your fall with chakra."

He smiled through his tears, then nestled his head against her chest.

The teenager had stopped at a plain wooden door set into a thick, cob wall. "No answer," he said as they approached. "I'll look around back."

Sakura shifted Tsuki's weight to one hip, then moved to the small window next to the door. Someone was moving inside. In a minute, the door opened up, and they were greeted by a tiny, white-haired woman on crutches.

"Katayama-sensei?"

"What happened to the boy? Come inside, right away!" She clucked as she gingerly prodded Tsuki's leg, earning a moan of discomfort for her actions. "Both bones, I think. I was hoping for a greenstick. What were you doing, young man? Humans can't fly, you know."

Sakura followed the healer into an examination room and gently laid Tsuki on the paper-covered table.

"We'll take care of him first. You wouldn't happen to have any experience with casts, would you?"

"Actually, I'm a healer, too. But my practice has always been limited to the herbal arts. I can splint a sprain or a break, but I've never used plaster."

"Well, lucky you. Today you're going to learn. First your son, then me."

Sakura looked down at the woman's legs, which were only partially hidden by a rather worn skirt. The woman's left leg was splinted, but bound sloppily, presumably because she'd done it herself.

"Not my best work," she said chuckling. "I don't have the flexibility I once had." She leaned precariously on one crutch as she bent down to procure gauze, plaster, a bucket and gloves from a white enameled cabinet. She then turned to Tsuki, a gentle expression on her face. "Nowhere near as bad as yours, kiddo. What's your name?"

"Tsuki."

"Miyamoto Tsuki. And I'm Sakura."

"Well, Miyamoto-san, this is going to hurt a little. Your mom and I have to move your bones back into position. Do you see the poster on the ceiling?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever been to the shore? I grew up there. I want you to imagine that's where you are for a while. There are dolphins, and sea turtles, and fish that brush against your legs when you wade—"

"AAAAHHH!"

"All done. Sakura, I'd like you to—"

"Just a moment." She moved alongside Tsuki's head, and leaned over to kiss him. "What a big boy you are, darling. Daddy will be proud of you."

"Daddy?" The boy's brow wrinkled for a minute, before he relaxed into a pleased smile. "Did Daddy ever break his leg?"

"You'll have to ask him. He'll be surprised, won't he?"

"Uh huh." He tried to sit up to watch his two healers at work. "Oh! That's hot and cold at the same time."

"Not too tight, and try to keep it smooth."

"Like this?"

The woman nodded, her dark eyes narrowing in thought. "Yes. Strange that you've never applied a cast before."

"The hospital I worked in was large. The herbalists only dealt with internal medicine. I learned splinting strictly as first aid, before I started my training."

"Ah. And where was this?"

"Waterfall."

"Never been there. Although I've heard it was a lovely place. Hold still, Tsuki-kun. If your bones shift, we'll have to start over. And you wouldn't want that, would you?"

"No. No way." Tsuki's eyes widened at the thought of a second reduction.

"Almost done. Just one more roll of gauze, Sakura. Be sure to squeeze it out, or we'll be here all afternoon waiting for it to set."

"Done?" Sakura rinsed her hands in the bucket before moving to the room's stainless steel sink.

"Not quite. I need you to do my leg, too. Tsuki-kun, will you be okay by yourself for a little while? You'll have to lie still until we come back."

"Do you have something I could read? I get bored easily."

"Read? How old are you?"

"Four. But I've been—"

"He's been reading for a few months, now." Sakura shrugged. "His dad was an early reader, too. Do you have any picture books?" She looked over the healer's stooped shoulders to smile placatingly at Tsuki. It wouldn't be a good idea for her to know his actual reading capacity.

"There are some in the waiting area. Join me in room three when you're ready."

Sakura returned to a waiting Tsuki with an arm full of board books, with several magazines tucked neatly inside the stack. She winked as she set them next to the avid reader, and warned him to lie still. "I'll take care of things when we get home. The pain's a bit more dull now, isn't it?"

"Did my dad really learn how to read so young?"

"Of course." Sakura smiled, confident that her answer _could_ be true, considering the age Kakashi joined the academy. "I did, too. Be good while I'm gone."

Room three, she saw, was a smaller examination room than the first, its furnishings more worn and outdated. If this was village's only healer, it said volumes about the state of that economy.

"Is it broken?"

"Yes, but only the tibia, pretty far down, and as far as I can tell, it was pretty clean. Of course, at my age, it will take months and months to heal. Not like your son. He should be on his feet again in three weeks."

"How did this happen?"

"My tenants moved out yesterday, and I took it upon myself to clean their place. They left it a mess. Probably not the best way to spend my only day off, but I wanted to get it rented as soon as possible." She laughed. "Then this happened. Serves me right for being so greedy."

"You fell?"

"I'm lucky I didn't break my hip. I was trying to reach the top shelf in the bathroom cabinet, and I slipped off the chair I was using as a step ladder. Pretty stupid of me. I'm not only greedy, I'm cheap. Didn't want to spring for the step ladder. The bathtub edge broke my fall."

"And you crawled back here?"

The older woman smiled ruefully. "Crawled down the stairs, actually. There was no one around to hear me. This street is mostly residential and it's deserted during the day, except for my patients. And it's my day off, so…"

"I'm glad we stopped by."

"Me, too. Funny that both your son and I have broken legs."

"I've been waiting for Tsuki to break a bone. He really does act like he can fly."

"So you're from Waterfall."

Sakura nodded as she unrolled and smoothed the plaster-encrusted gauze around the woman's surprisingly skinny leg. From her stooped posture and fragile frame, Sakura was certain she had osteoporosis. Luckily, she knew just the herb that would help.

"Refugees?"

"We'd seen enough. Tsuki had seen enough."

"Are you planning on settling here? There's not a lot of work—you're married, I gather, and I assume from your son's comments that your husband is still alive—"

"Yes, Tsuki's dad is still with us. I really don't know if we're staying. It depends on whether one or both of us can find work. We didn't take much with us, and as you probably know, Waterfall's currency collapsed. We're almost destitute."

"Well, obviously, I'll be needing an assistant, at least for the next few months."

"I'm only an herbalist. I don't know that I'd be of much use to you."

"Nonsense. I can tell you've got good hands by the way you wrapped these casts. I'd swear you were an expert."

Sakura blushed. She really hadn't ever set a cast, at that rudimentary technology was obviated by medical ninjutsu. It was flattering, though, to be thought so highly of.

"You can take the apartment upstairs. I'll take it out of your wages. It's big enough for three, and it's pretty well insulated, so you won't have to worry about me hearing you." She smiled at Sakura's questioning look. "My apartment's on this level—just down the hall. Why don't you look around the place while these casts set? The key is on the hook at the bottom of the stairs."

…o…o…o…o…

"Where were you?" Over the course of the afternoon, Sakura's emotions had ranged, in sequence, from scared, to tired, to elated, to tired (again), to worried while simultaneously annoyed, to the current enraged. "Do you have any idea of how concerned I've been about you?"

"What happened to you, Tsuki?" Kakashi glanced through the doorway and saluted the boy with a jaunty wave.

"I fell! Want to sign my cast?" The boy grinned from his pillow-covered bed. "Guess what! Mom got a job."

Kakashi turned to Sakura in surprise. "So fast? Good work."

"Not only that, I found us a place to live." Her excitement was barely hidden, though she did her best to maintain her ticked off exterior.

"Wow. Great."

"Don't, okay? Don't act like everything's okay. It's nine p.m.! I couldn't go out to pick up dinner because I didn't want to leave Tsuki alone. He can't handle crutches yet, and I was too tired to carry him on my back."

"It's really broken?"

"Yes, it's really broken. Did you think I would apply chakra in the middle of the street?"

"Well, no…but you're not in the middle of the street… anymore."

"No shit, Sherlock. I healed it as much as I could once we got home. But I need to actually eat something before I can finish."

"Ah."

Sakura shut the door to Tsuki's room before continuing in a lower voice. "So where were you? Out partying? You look like someone rolled you. Or were you in a bar fight?"

Kakashi stretched, peeling off his sweat-saturated shirt to expose the reddened skin underneath.

"Actually, I got caught in a fire. Didn't you hear the alarm? Someone torched the daimyou's palace."


	16. Chapter 16 Fire

A Book of Five Rings

_Author's note: It's been taking me a long time to update, recently, for various reasons. So, since I had time to get this chapter written early, I thought I'd post it early, as well. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed—your words mean an awful lot to me, and keep me at this._

Chapter 16 – Fire

"What?" Sakura rushed to Kakashi's side to peer at his blistered skin. "This is a second degree burn. How did you get involved? Sit. Talk. Tell me everything." She gestured for him to sit on the bed, then crouched before him. "You'll need to take those lenses out—I need to look at your eyes."

"Why?"

"Dilated pupils are one sign of shock. Do you feel cold?" She pressed her hand to his forehead, then lifted his hand to examine its fingertips.

"This burn covers more than eighteen percent of your body, Kakashi. You came home straight away, right?" She locked eyes with him. "Right? A burn that big is no laughing matter." She sighed at his unresponsiveness, then turned away from him to rummage through her medical supplies. "Damn. I'll need to go out."

"You should anyway. Weren't you just complaining about dinner?" Kakashi grinned. It was touching to see her so concerned, although surely much of this was the automatic response of a highly trained medic.

"Right. I'll be back. Take a cool shower while I'm gone. Not cold. Cool." She nearly flew out the door, not even bothering to kiss her son before doing so.

"Sensei? Dad? Can I see?"

Kakashi entered the boy's room, no longer bothering to hide the considerable pain he felt. Tsuki noticed his grimace and smiled consolingly.

"We both got beat up pretty bad today, huh?"

"You said it." Kakashi slumped into the arm chair next to his son's bed, careful not to touch his back to its upholstered surface. "Want to tell me about your accident?"

"Well…I knew I wasn't supposed to use chakra, but there was this wall, and I was sure I could walk on it even though it wasn't very wide, but I slipped. I almost stopped myself from falling, but people were looking. A lady had yelled at me when I climbed up there, and I knew she would freak out if she saw me regain the wall."

"You never learned how to fall correctly, did you? So that you don't break any bones? Hmm, I guess you've probably never even had a scraped knee."

"Nope." Tsuki smiled proudly.

"I'll have to teach you." He ruffled the boy's hair, earning a glare for his efforts. Kakashi grinned. "You look just like your mother when you do that."

"I do not! She's a… girl!"

"And you're a boy. So?"

"I'm more like you."

"You think so?" Kakashi smile grew uneasy. "Well, we do have some things in common, don't we? The hair, the dimple…"

"The chinpoko!" Tsuki collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"That, too." His eyes widened slightly. "I nearly forgot." Kakashi hurriedly left his seat, glad of the jog to his memory. He didn't like the turn this conversation had taken. Tsuki was a smart boy, and it was likely that their future acquaintances, neighbors, even passersby would notice and comment on the familial resemblance. He needed time to come up with an explanation that would seem plausible to the boy. Maybe the small ninja would buy the idea that they were second or third cousins. He'd have to talk to Sakura about that. Surely she'd be willing to help cook up some story—any story—that would keep Tsuki from learning the truth. Kakashi took a deep breath before returning to the room, daypack in arms. "Did you want to hear about my accident?"

"Is there a toy for me in there?" Tsuki cocked his head in thought. "You know, you've never bought me a present."

"How long have you been my student? Ask your mom how many presents I ever bought her."

"Mom says gifts are the oil that makes society run smoothly."

"She _would_ say that. Anyway, my story?"

Tsuki quirked a silver eyebrow. "Why is your bag moving?"

"Fine. Forget the story." Kakashi sighed at the boy's Naruto-like attention span. He then unzipped the bag to pull out a small black bundle of fur.

"A kitten?" Tsuki sat up quickly and leaned towards the small cat. "Can I hold it?'

"It's a boy, I think, and yes, you can hold him. In fact, he needs someone to take care of him. He lost his family today."

"Wow. He had a harder day than I did." Tsuki gently took the cat from Kakashi's outreached arms and smiled as the cat burrowed against him. "He likes me."

"Yes, I think he does. He can tell that you'll be gentle with him."

"It was pretty mean to keep him in your backpack."

"He only just woke up. He was fine in there—nice and secure."

"Oh. What's his name?"

"I don't know. I think that's your decision."

"He's for me?" Kakashi had never seen the boy smile so brightly. "Hmm. Kurosuke? No. Sounds like Sasuke. Mom hates that name. Smoky? No, he's too dark. I know-- Susuwatari."

"He does look like a soot sprite."

"Plus you found him in a fire, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Was he scared?"

"No. He was asleep. I guess he'd breathed in too much smoke. But his heart was still beating, so I grabbed him."

"You're okay now, Susuwatari. I'll be your daddy, okay?" Tsuki turned to Kakashi. "But where will he go to the bathroom?"

"Hadn't thought of that. I'll see what I can put together. I'm sure your mom will have some idea. You… you don't think she'll be angry, do you?"

Apparently habits of speech were not the only thing Tsuki had inherited from his mother. Kakashi was sure he saw the briefest gleam of schadenfreude in the young boy's eyes, although his words were reassuring.

"She seems mean sometimes, but really, she's not. She just cares a lot."

"I see."

"For a while I thought she hated you, but I can tell that she doesn't."

For the life of him, Kakashi wanted to pursue this particular vein of conversation, but decided against it. He was sure any conversation he had with the boy would eventually get back to the mother, and he knew she wouldn't appreciate him asking questions about her.

The boy's attention was otherwise occupied, however, and Kakashi was pleased to see how quickly Tsuki took to the cat, and vice-versa. Several minutes elapsed before Tsuki looked up, apparently remembering that his sensei was still in the room.

"I wish I could get out of bed to play with him."

"Would you like lessons in how to use crutches tomorrow? I'm a pro, you know."

"Oh. I thought you knew how to fall correctly."

"I do. But a good stab wound will lead to crutches, too."

"Mom's going to fix it. She said so." Tsuki's voice oozed with the complete and trusting confidence of a child for his parent.

"Don't you think it would seem funny if you were in a cast tonight and walking around tomorrow?"

"I guess." He frowned. "But it's itchy."

"It will be worse than that by the time the cast is removed."

"Why?"

"Well, what do you think your leg would look like—and smell like—if you wrapped it up tightly and didn't wash it for a month?"

"I hate washing."

"Noted. So, really, this is a _good_ thing. A couple of days in bed without bathing are just what you need."

"A couple of _days_?" Kakashi couldn't help smiling as Tsuki's world crumbled around him. "I have to stay in bed for a couple of days?"

"I'd think so. Of course, your mom is the expert."

"Expert at what?" An out of breath Sakura popped her head through the doorway. "_What_ is that?"

"It's my new kitten, Mom! Susuwatari!"

"Kakashi, could I speak with you for a moment?" The tone of her voice sent a chill down the copy ninja's neck, which thankfully was mitigated somewhat by his son's well-timed (and well-hidden) eye roll.

"Yes?" He followed her into the room, careful to shut the door behind him. It didn't matter if Tsuki knew his mother had anger management issues—he still wanted to save face in the boy's eyes.

"I'm going to assume there's a good explanation for why you'd bring an animal into our house. Ha! House—we haven't even moved into our house yet. I have no idea whether Katayama-sensei will even allow—"

"There _is_ a good reason." Kakashi kept his voice soft, calm and reasonable, in the manner one used when speaking to a small child or mentally unstable adult. Not that Sakura was either of those things. Not the first, at least.

"Do tell." Sakura turned to the large cardboard box containing their dinner, and unpacked it as she waited for his response. It smelled delicious. Beef ramen, if he wasn't mistaken. Hopefully, she'd asked for sliced eggs on top.

"His mom apparently gave birth under the main house, right under the room where the fire broke out. She was nesting there, at least. I heard him crying and decided to investigate." He shrugged. "The others were already dead. It didn't seem right to leave him there."

"So you crawled under a burning building to rescue a kitten?" Sakura was looking at him as though he had grown an extra head.

"No, the fire was mostly out by then."

"That's how you injured your back, isn't it?" A wry smile spread across her face, as something clicked into place. "The floor joists were still hot, weren't they?"

Red hot, actually.

"The water produced a lot of steam and smoke, so I pulled up my shirt to cover my head. That left my back exposed."

"Your _head_? You mean your _face_, don't you? No. I get it. You pulled up your shirt to cover your _hair_?!" She laughed softly. "You're an idiot. An absolute idiot."

"And you're not the slightest bit vain about your hair?"

"I'm a woman. I'm supposed to be vain."

"I'll remember that."

"So how did they die?"

"Smoke inhalation, I guess."

"But not this one?"

"I know a little first aid."

"Reviving an animal is _not_ a little first aid."

Kakashi shrugged in an effort to put an end to the conversation.

"You didn't shower." She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

Apparently he didn't smell that great. In fact, he must smell terrible if she could pick up his scent from across the room. But he shouldn't smell like roses after the back-breaking labor he'd performed today, should he? She seemed to be in the mood for a fight this evening, but had no intention of picking up the rope. A simple "No," was his response, instead.

"You were too busy trying to impress Tsuki with your little gift, I guess."

Kakashi smiled, and hoped his next words wouldn't come off as condescending, although her snarky remark definitely warranted a response of similar caliber. "Would you have left him there, Sakura?"

She didn't reply immediately. "No."

"But you think that I should have?"

"No. No, I didn't say that. I just wish you'd told me first."

"You feel left out."

"How _I_ feel is immaterial. This is about Tsuki."

"If you say so."

Sakura huffed in frustration, then picked up two lidded bowls of soup and paper-wrapped chopsticks. "I'm going to feed my son. Don't even think of eating until you've showered. You were supposed to cool off your back, idiot. I'll be back in a few minutes—your burn needs attention as soon as possible."

"Take care of Tsuki's leg first."

"He's not in pain anymore. You are. I can tell, even though you're doing a damn good job hiding it. Shower, but don't use any soap on your back. Just cool water. I'll be back in ten minutes."

…o…o…o…o…

It was funny how quickly a good meal restored ones chakra. Only minutes after taking her first bite, Sakura could feel her sub-cellular machines kicking into gear, the small billions each releasing the minute quantities of energy that her body coalesced, then molded into chakra. Tsuki, she saw was fine, and quite content with his new companion. He offered it small bits of meat from his chopsticks, and giggled as the tiny feline bit into each morsel with relish, baring its tiny teeth with carnivorous intent.

A small friend for him was a very good idea, and Sakura wondered if Kakashi had acquired the kitten by other means, specifically to implement this idea. Tsuki was lonely. Sakura had been aware of this for quite a while. Being an only child tended to cause isolation and a lack of experiences common to those with siblings, and being precocious made things worse. She hoped he would find playmates his own age in the coming days, and she hoped even more dearly that he would earn their acceptance. It hadn't mattered so much in Waterfall—he'd really been too little then to realize he was different. His relationships, or lack thereof, had existed nearly from birth. They'd always been what they were and therefore seemed normal to him. But Tsuki was old enough now to notice differences in the way people related to each other, and he would likely notice if children treated him differently. Certainly he was old enough to feel the resulting hurt and pinpoint its source.

Perhaps Kakashi had experienced similar ostracism as a child. Hers had been of a different variety. She'd been fairly skilled at hiding her intelligence, but her shyness, along with her physical differences had caused her to stick out from her peers. But someone like Kakashi must have stuck out further still. And she had found friends, eventually. Had he?

It was good to see that her former sensei still had the capacity for empathy. That shouldn't have surprised her, though. He'd always put his team first, and had even treated his enemies, once vanquished, as humans due respect. But she had been surprised—pleasantly—by his actions tonight. He really was the type who would put his life at risk to rescue a kitten, a life most would consider less valuable than his own. It was reassuring to learn he was still filled with compassion. She needed to get back to him—he had to be hurting.

"Tsuki, how are you feeling?"

"I'm good, Mom. So is Susuwatari."

"That's a pretty long name, don't you think?"

"But he likes it. See? He looks at me when I say it. Susuwatari!"

"I think that's because you're holding a piece of meat."

"You're wrong, Mom."

"Does your leg hurt?"

"No. It's fine. Sensei said I'd have to wear the cast for a while. But that's not right, is it? I won't be able to play with it on."

"Actually, he's right. I'd like to wait a while before healing you. Kakashi's burn is pretty bad, and I think it will take all of my chakra just to start him healing. I'll work on your leg tomorrow, okay?"

"Will I have to wear the cast for a month?"

"Yes. Even after I fix it, Tsuki. People will get suspicious, otherwise. And it will be weak once it's healed, anyway. It will take a while to get back to a hundred percent."

"Oh." He looked dejected.

"You can still train with crutches, you know."

"Really?"

"Kakashi taught us to how to tree walk while he was using them. He manipulated his chakra through them. I didn't realize how impressive it was at the time, but only a master technician can do that."

"I bet I can do it! I bet I can learn in a week!"

"Well, there's a goal for you to work toward. We'll have to find a secluded place where the two of you can train. Problem is, there aren't a lot of woods around here."

"Down by the river there are trees."

"Yes, but they're willows. Not the best for tree walking—they're too flexible. Will you be okay on your own for a while? I need to take care of that burn."

"We'll be fine, Mom. You worry too much."

Being admonished by a four year old was unsettling, even if the four year old in question was her own flesh and blood. Sakura shut the door behind her and frowned as she saw Kakashi bent over the room's small table. His back was glistening, though not with water. His blisters were seeping—not a very good sign.

"What are you doing?" She noted the box she'd carried dinner back in had been cut down.

"Litter box."

"Did you eat?"

"Uh huh."

"Lie down, then. I'm going to fix you some tea, to ease your pain a bit. It's going to take a while to mend your back. In fact, I don't think I'll be able to finish tonight. So the tea will help."

"You know best." He moved to the bed and lay face down, allowing the towel wrapped around his waist to slip to his hips as he did so. Sakura moved her mortar and pestle to the table, and quickly ground tiny poppy seeds into a fine black powder, then crushed and a rolled sheet of bark for its anti-inflammatory properties. She flipped the electric kettle on, and knelt next to Kakashi on the bed.

He relaxed immediately, she noted, as the first tendrils of her chakra eased their way into his damaged flesh. "Does it feel numb yet?"

"No, but it feels cooler."

"I'm going to shut down the pain receptors first, then get to work on the damaged tissues." She allowed her chakra to flow more quickly into his flesh, modulating its force so that it penetrated only his skin. "Better?"

"Yes." His answer was a sigh, and Sakura smiled. It always felt good to ease a person's pain. Each time she did so she felt the same rush of self-worth she'd felt the time she'd healed her very first practice animal. She'd felt so useless, so burdensome until that day. Since then, she'd felt she had something real to offer her teammates, something that made her a valuable part of shinobi society. But it was not only that. It felt good to help, good to give and good to bring comfort to another. It was so much better than standing by, crying impotently.

"So how did you end up at the palace today?"

"That wasn't my intention. I visited the farms on the outskirts of town today, looking for work. I wasn't the only one-- there are a lot of men out of work here. A bunch of us headed out for yakitori and beers afterwards. I figured it would be a good way to learn some more about the town, and make some contacts. While we were in the bar, the alarm sounded, and we were pressed into service."

Sakura repressed the cluck of disapproval that seemed ready to form in her mouth. It was his life, and his liver. Besides, drinking with others was a well-established method for gaining others trust and gathering information. And he didn't seem drunk at the moment, just understandably exhausted. It was annoying, though, that he'd been eating dinner with a bunch of likely ne'er do wells while she and Tsuki were sitting at home waiting for him. An image of the prototypical jobless barfly popped into her mind.

"They don't have firefighters?"

"It's all volunteer. And I use that term loosely. They have one tank with a hand pump, and horses almost too old to pull it. We relied on a bucket brigade. Can you believe that?"

"The village relies on a bunch of unemployed drunks to fight its fires? They really must be poor here. So, did it burn to the ground? I couldn't tell when I went outside."

"No. We got there early enough that only about half of the main building was damaged. The storehouses weren't touched. And no one was killed. No humans, anyway."

Sakura allowed her chakra to move deeper into his flesh, focusing it on one small patch at a time. "Was the daimyou at home?"

"Yes. He and his family got out safely. He looked shaken, though. Frightened."

"Who wouldn't be?"

"Fires are commonplace here, Sakura. That's what you get when you have thatch roofs and no chimneys. Surely he's lived through a fire or two before. This is the wrong time of year, too. Most happen in the summer, when the wildfires come, or in the winter, when sparks from the fireplace hit the thatch. Spring is the wrong time for this type of fire. No one lights fires past March—and those without electricity cook outdoors. And this place had an electric kitchen, anyway. The room where it started didn't even have a fireplace."

"Candles?"

"It started on the roof. And I distinctly smelled kerosene in the wreckage."

"So you think it was arson."

"It certainly wasn't the daimyou—he was in the house when it broke out. No one would be so stupid as to put both himself and his family at risk. We had to break down an outer wall to get to them. And an outside arsonist would burn the storehouses—most likely he'd loot the storehouses first, then burn them to hide the theft. But they weren't touched. And the daimyou had more storehouses than you'd expect for a landholder of his level."

"So you think someone was sending a message, or a warning? And that there's something in those storehouses that needs to stay in one piece?"

"You always were a smart one, Sakura."

The medic rose from the bed and poured hot water into a mug, then spooned in a measure of the powder she'd prepared earlier. "Let me warn you—this won't taste good, but you'll feel better quickly."

"Yes, Haruno-sensei."

"Fuyuno."

"Actually, it's Miyamoto-sensei, isn't it?" Kakashi lifted the beverage to his lips and sipped tentatively. "Morphine?"

"Almost. Opium. The sour note is the willow. Drink it all. It will wear off in a few hours, in case you're wondering."

"I haven't needed opium in quite a while."

"Well, you haven't done anything as stupid as crawling under a burning building in a while, have you?" She didn't mean for that to come across as harsh as it sounded, but Kakashi didn't seem to mind. Or maybe he hadn't noticed.

"Let me help you get settled." She stepped aside as he got to his feet, then stripped the top sheet and blankets from the bed. "I'm not going to dress the burn tonight-- I'd like it to air out a bit. You'll need to sleep face down, without covers."

Kakashi climbed dutifully into bed, and Sakura found herself smiling as he attempted to settle himself into a prone position. He seemed to have forgotten that he'd been dressed only in a towel. Right now she had the most perfect view of his fully exposed posterior. Better still, he was completely unaware of it. Thankfully, the room wasn't drafty. She managed to tear her eyes away from him when her increasingly lascivious thoughts were interrupted by a clock chiming outside. "Be right back."

Sakura returned several minutes later with a sleepy Tsuki in her arms, a tiny black kitten curled into his. She deposited the pair next to Kakashi, placing a pillow between them, should her son kick in his sleep.

"What are you doing?" The much feared ninja of a thousand jutsu sounded a bit groggy already, as well as a bit put out. "Aren't you going to sleep with me tonight?"

"Don't worry. I haven't given you enough to knock you out. If Tsuki needs something, you should be able to help him."

"But where—"

"I'm guessing Katayama-sensei is swamped at the moment. She'll need my help."

"But aren't you almost out of chakra?"

Sakura picked up her apothecary chest and headed for the door, but not before kissing her sleeping son on the cheek. She smiled at Kakashi as she willed her eyes to focus on his profiled face, and not an inch southward.

"This has nothing to do with chakra, silly."

…o…o…o…o…

It was going to be a hot day, Sakura thought as she paused outside of the hotel room to search for the room key. The short skirt she wore had only two pockets, so it didn't take long to shift the paper bag she carried from one hip to another to find the diamond-shaped plastic tag with its single brass key. It did afford her enough time to look over the metal railing and into the distance, where the first rays of dawn were slowly lighting the sky. Despite the duskiness of near-morning, the cicadas were already singing. Their chorus was less frenzied than it would be at the height of the day, but still predictable in its inexorable, cyclic rising and falling.

In neither Konoha nor Waterfall would the cicadas be out so early in the year. They were an early June occurrence in Konoha, July in Waterfall. But it was certainly warmer here than in either of those two places, most likely due to weather patterns. The warm winds that swept across Sand and throughout Kaze no kuni picked up moisture as the coursed through Ame, and lessened once they reached Grass, due to the increase in elevation and the presence of formidable, wall-like rock formations that demarcated the border between the countries of rain and grass. There was therefore less wind erosion here than in the land of wind, and more topsoil, as well. But it was much more humid here, too, which would not be fun to deal with once summer started in earnest.

Katayama-sensei had been thankful for the help when she had arrived eight hours before, and it wasn't until five a.m. that the last patient had been seen. Quite a few had been injured while fighting the fire, although most of these had suffered only minor breaks, and sprains. Only a handful had suffered smoke inhalation. Sadly, there was little a village healer or herbalist could do to help those patients, apart from prescribing plenty of rest. And compared to what she could accomplish with medical ninjutsu, Sakura had felt as though she were a young child playing doctor.

Several patients had stood out from the crowd. The daimyou, of course, had been impossible not to recognize, if only because of the finery of his clothing, and that of his family. He did not look the part of a haughty noble. He was short, a bit overweight, and apparently prone to profuse sweating. He made up for his physical shortcomings with the finery available to a man of substantial income. He was dressed in a vivid silk kimono, a bit marred by soot, but fine nonetheless, and his wife resembled more a maiko than the spouse of a feudal lord. Her hair was pulled into the traditional coils of the beautiful entertainer, she shuffled when she walked, and Sakura had half-expected to see blackened teeth when she smiled. She was young, too, and was the best example of a trophy wife Sakura had ever come across. The only thing that spoiled this finely crafted image of a male plaything was the small child she carried. Sakura wondered briefly if the daimyou had been married before. He certainly seemed old enough to be on his second or third wife, and it was well known that the societal expectation of marital fidelity did not necessarily apply to the ruling class.

Protocol demanded that this family be seen first, despite the fact that they obviously were not injured. In a village this small, the gap between lord and peasant was greater than usual. In regular circumstances, it would have been unseemly for them to even appear at a clinic. Instead, Katayama-sensei would have seen to them in their quarters.

Katayama saw the daimyou, as protocol demanded this as well, despite the fact that the senior healer was injured herself. Sakura was permitted, though, to treat the daimyou's young wife and child. After ensuring that the infant was in good health, the kunoichi took the opportunity to strike up a conversation with the young mother. She couched her questions in medical phrases so as not to appear rude. One didn't directly address a lord or lady, after all, outside of a healer-patient relationship.

She needn't have worried, however. The young woman was shy, more sweet than Sakura had expected, and seemed to know little of the protocol expected in these circumstances. What's more, a little probing revealed that she was completely clueless about possible reasons for that evening's fire. She was, however, concerned about her husband. He hadn't been sleeping well for weeks, she confided, and tossed and turned when he finally did succumb to sleep.

And then there had been that curly-haired man. He'd stood out from the others, and not just in his dress or hair color. He had held himself differently, more proudly than even the daimyou did. It had been obvious to Sakura that here was a person that thought very highly of himself. And with good reason. In the looks department, at least, he was far better than average. Better than most, in fact. Sakura had been surprised to realize that she looked forward to talking with the man, whoever he was. He must have been injured during the fire—why else would he be sitting in a waiting room so long past clinic hours? But he couldn't have been part of the makeshift fire brigade. They were sitting in a group on one side of the room, immersed in conversation, bonded by their recent experience, as well as their mutual joblessness. He had sat alone, an opened magazine face down in his lap. She'd blushed when she noticed that he was looking straight at her.

The scree-scree-scree of the cicadas interrupted Sakura's reverie and she quickly turned the key that had sat in the lock for some minutes now. The room was empty when she entered, but the noise from the adjoining room told her that all male members of the household were up and about. She entered Tsuki's room to see Susuwatari hunched on the small table, devouring the remains of a small, sugar-powdered donut, while Kakashi coached Tsuki in the skill of crutch-walking.

"Breakfast of champions." Sakura sighed as she set down the bag filled with what most people would consider a healthy meal. An empty soda can rolled off the table as she did so, followed by the kitten, who pounced on the impromptu toy.

Kakashi gave her what appeared to be an appeasing smile. "It was the only thing in the vending machine. I did the best I could. I didn't want to leave Tsuki alone for long."

Sakura nodded. Much as she wanted to be annoyed at Kakashi for his efforts to ingratiate himself with her son, she found she just didn't have the energy. And he did have a point. Tsuki was always ravenous in the morning, and hotel vending machines were not known for healthy snack choices. And with his back in the condition it was in, he wouldn't have been able to carry Tsuki any distance. Sakura grabbed three mugs from the nearby bureau and poured cold milk from the bottle she'd brought back. "Have something nourishing to drink, at least. You don't know how hard I had to look to find these onigiri. Almost everything here seems to be made of wheat."

"Wrong climate for rice. No rainy season." Kakashi grinned as he rummaged through the bag, pulling out several plastic-wrapped onigiri which he eagerly tore open.

"Watch me walk, Mom." Tsuki crossed the room as easily as if he'd been using crutches for weeks, then moved from crutches to chair in one fluid movement.

Sakura smiled as she set a mug of milk in front of her son. "I'm not surprised, sweetie. You've always been a fast mover."

"Did you just get off work?" Kakashi's voice was muffled, as it was stuffed full with a savory rice ball. "You must be beat."

"Do you need some more meds? And Tsuki, how do you feel? Is your leg hurting?"

"I'm fine! Look at my cast!" He shifted in his seat, then stuck his leg out straight for Sakura to inspect.

"They're susuwatari. Remember?"

Sakura's eye moved up the cast, taking in each feature of the elaborate drawing inscribed there.

"So they are. And there's a camphor tree."

"And look. Sensei drew a totoro, too."

Sakura eyed her former teacher quizzically. "Since when do you watch children's movies?"

"It was completely by accident, I assure you."

"Hmm." Kakashi certainly had a number of heretofore unrevealed facets. He danced. He sang. He drew. And now he'd revealed himself as a movie buff.

"Would you believe it if I told you it was a double feature with _Icha, Icha_?"

Sakura giggled. "I feel sorry for any child who had to sit through that. Liar."

"Why don't you get some sleep? I assume you have at least the morning off?"

"The whole day, actually. But we need to move house tonight." Sakura sat on Tsuki's bed, as she removed shoes, then stretched deeply to unknot the kink in her neck. "I'll sleep here. You two can use the larger room." She pulled back the bedclothes, not even bothering to remove her own clothing, and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them wide again.

"Let me see your back."

The shirtless Kakashi moved close enough for her to inspect said area.

"It looks pretty good, actually. How does it feel?"

"Fine."

"Meaning it hurts."

"Meaning you shouldn't worry about it." There was a note of something in his voice. Not irritation, not exasperation, either. Whatever it was, it was atypical for the usually stoic warrior.

"Fine. I won't worry for a while. Tsuki should spend most of the next few hours off his feet. He has the swelling you'd expect to see after a break, and it won't go down while he's on his feet."

"We'll be fine, Sakura. We were last night." Kakashi was obviously amused by her sudden display of over-mothering.

"Getting him to stay in bed will be an almost impossible task. So if you do go outside, wake me up first. I'll need to wrap your burn. I don't want your shirt rubbing against it. And shirtless is out of the question—the burn is partially healed. It will be too obvious to anyone who saw it last night, or even heard about your antics. Besides, we need to consider your tattoo. Any ideas about what to do with it?"

"I assume you have a bandage that will cover it."

"Are you planning on wearing a bandage the whole time we're here? If you're doing manual labor, your shirt will be off most of the time."

"Not once I go to work for our woman from Mizu."

"Speaking of which." She suddenly felt the urge to share this tidbit of news with him.

"She was a patient tonight?"

"No. Your blonde mystery woman wasn't with the daimyou. But I do think I know who set the fire."

"Oh?" She'd obviously piqued Kakashi's interest.

"I saw a man tonight who came in with a fairly nasty wound on his hand. He claimed he'd done it while filleting a piece of beef, but it wasn't the type of cut a butcher knife makes." She paused for a moment to gauge the effect of her words. Funny how she was no longer tired.

"And?"

"If he'd cut himself while slicing, the wound should have been long and thin. But it was a short, deep wound, and a bit ragged."

"Like he'd been jabbing at something and missed."

"Right."

"I do know a thing or two about knives, you know. And?" He waited a moment for her to continue, then chuckled, dismissively, she thought. "It's suspicious, certainly. But what has a knife wound got to do with the fire?"

"His hands reeked of kerosene. It's impossible to get rid of that smell—believe me, I've tried." She grimaced as a memory of its noxious odor permeated her nostrils. Waterfall's backup generator—used more and more as skirmishes increased and power lines were cut—had run on the stuff, and she'd been tasked with filling it up a time or two. The smell never failed to induce retching. She'd had to excuse herself tonight to avoid doing so.

Now Sakura smiled as she noticed that the copy ninja's expression had changed.

"And? I can tell by your face that there's more."

"He had blond, curly hair and the most unusual, enchanting gold eyes."

"Ah. Guess I was right about our friends from Mizu."


	17. Chapter 17 Rapprochement

A Book of Five Rings

_Author's note: A very long chapter. Sorry about that, but there was a lot to say._

Chapter 17 – Rapprochement

"Nice tattoo. Daisy? How sweet."

Kakashi quickly located the source of the laughingly snide remark, and ambled toward the woman leaning against the split-rail fence that marked the edge of the orchard.

"_Centaurea_, actually." He wiped sweat from his brow as he spoke, and silently thanked Sakura for the job she'd done on his upper arm. He'd assumed he would be alone today, as the day laborers typically worked some distance from each other. He had therefore thought nothing of removing his shirt while he worked. If Sakura hadn't insisted on modifying his tattoo, his cover would have been blown, moments ago. The woman's face was a blank, he noticed. Apparently she didn't know her botany. "Yagurumagiku. Bachelor's button."

"You seem a little too masculine to be wearing flower tattoos."

"My wife wanted a cherry blossom. I agreed to this—it's a little bit less girly, don't you think?" Kakashi unbuckled the small basket that hung at his waist, while his eyes remained fixed on the bottle of water the golden-eyed Izumi was drinking. It wasn't beer, but it certainly would do. The condensation on the bottle's surface hinted at the wonderful coolness inside. Izumi smiled as she noticed the focus of his attention, then tipped the bottle to her lips, quickly draining it of its fluid. She smirked in recognition of Kakashi's crestfallen look, then reached inside the bag she carried to offer him his own.

He drank greedily, but stopped halfway through to pour the remainder of the beverage over his head. It was damn hot for this early in the year, and by midmorning he'd drunk the several bottles of water Sakura had packed for him. Worse, he'd forgotten a hat or bandanna to shade his head from the intense sun. The problem with hair his color was that it provided little protection. The last thing he needed was a burnt scalp to match his still recovering back.

He'd been lucky to get work, though, so he wasn't complaining. Row after row of apple trees filled this grove some meters from the river, and would provide ample work for days to come. A simple irrigation system supplied the water needed to grow the fruit, and each small tree had been rigorously trained and supported to allow maximum light to hit every branch. His job was to examine each cluster of newly formed fruit, and remove all but the largest apple from each cluster. It was meticulous, methodical work, and the apple trees, small and splayed as they were, afforded little shade. In other words, it was a great venue to show a prospective employer, such as Izumi, his worth.

"Family crest?" Izumi reached over to touch the artwork on his upper arm, running her perfectly manicured nails over the finely engraved curves of the image, and evoking a shiver that was unanticipated, but not unwelcome, given the heat of the day.

"Hers." He studied the golden-eyed woman, noting how her hair perfectly matched her irises, and how even her skin had a subtle, tawny glow to it. She was dressed for the weather. The white halter top she wore was translucent enough to prove without a doubt that she was braless today, and her exposed midriff revealed the toned muscles of someone well aware of the potential uses of her body as well as the need to keep it top condition. A short but full skirt hung low on her hips, and fluttered slightly in the occasional breeze that crept through the grove, exposing her thighs with each small gust. Her spiked heels, though obviously quite expensive, were completely inappropriate for the dirt lane she'd walked down to find him. He was surprised she hadn't sprained her ankle—the track was littered with ruts and potholes. She was a city girl, he guessed. A country girl, even a village girl would laugh at the idea of wearing such shoes on unpaved ground. He smiled as he compared the women of the Leaf to the woman in front of him. Had he ever seen Sakura in heels? Maybe at the third's funeral, or at Asuma's. Not that he was one who normally noticed footwear.

In the light of day, he saw that the finest of lines marred the skin around Izumi's mouth and eyes. That was likely due to the smoking-- even now, a long cigarette dangled between her fingers. He mentally subtracted the fine wrinkles from her face, and guessed her age to be twenty five or so, still in the prime of her youth, and well aware of its affects on the opposite sex. Smoker or not, she was still a knockout.

"What's her name? Surname, I mean. I've never seen a kamon like this before." Izumi's eyes glittered with pleasure, he noted, presumably because she had correctly inferred that she was now the focus of his attention.

"Haruno." He'd blurted that out before he'd even had a chance to think. It didn't matter, though. He doubted any Harunos on this, or any other continent had this particular design as their family crest. The kamon on his arm was a wholecloth invention of his rather ingenious former student, using a medicinal flower that wasn't native to these parts or any bordering nations. She'd pulled a dried, pale blue cornflower from her apothecary chest after staring at his ANBU tattoo for at least ten minutes. She'd turned the many-petalled flower several times before sitting down with a sketch pad, a smile, and a sudden bit of inspiration. She'd done a masterful job in turning the simple, meandering lines of the old tattoo into the bones of the new one. Each of the original curves was turned into one half of an outwardly curved, fringed petal. She'd added four additional petals so that the flower was snowflake-like in its six-fold symmetry. A secondary image of six lozenges appeared in the negative space between the petals. All in all, it was a good looking tattoo, though not one he would have willingly selected. More importantly, it was impossible to tell that this tattoo hid another.

Sakura had been even more ingenious in its execution. Kakashi hadn't been looking forward to several hours of needle pokes—the simple curves of his only tattoo had taken two hours to prick and color, if he remembered correctly. Nor had he been enamored of the idea of a new, even larger tattoo taking up permanent residence on his biceps. He'd laughed, then, when Sakura pulled out a thin, permanent marker to draw her design on his arm, with the words, "I'd like to try something. I think this will work." She'd finished the design in a mere 15 minutes, then pushed the pigment into the deeper layers of his skin with a simple application of chakra. Of course, it wasn't that simple—he doubted he could move tiny particles of ink as deftly and evenly as she had. But she made it look easy. Virtuosos always did. He was even more pleased when she told him it wasn't permanent—the pigment would move upward as his skin sloughed off. However, it would be a simple matter to push the pigment down to newer cells as they were generated.

He'd never really given her credit for her intelligence and problem solving skills. He'd long recognized that she was the smartest member of the original team seven, but that wasn't saying much. A bumbling jinchuuriki and a revenge-obsessed preteen would make any teammate look like an intellectual giant, preoccupied as the two were with their outside interests. He'd given the lone female member of the team short shrift, perhaps because she was a female, and therefore hard to relate to, or perhaps because she had been the easiest to ignore. After all, _she_ hadn't been on the verge of running away or likely to morph into a fox demon at the slightest provocation. But he should have done more. She was intellectually gifted, and had shown a definite aptitude for genjutsu—an aptitude she apparently hadn't taken advantage of. Maybe she'd allow him to tutor her. He did know a thing or two about--

"Were they farmers? Florists?" Izumi's question, voiced, he thought, for at least the third time (if her sigh of frustration was any indication) brought him back to the present. She seemed overly interested in the tattoo, but perhaps she was just making conversation.

"The Harunos? No idea. Not in Waterfall, anyway. I have no idea about the name's history. I never met her parents." It was always best to keep thing vague, especially considering that this was supposed to be a secondary cover. There was no need to give her enough information to break through it too quickly.

"Why not your own crest?"

He smiled, sheepishly, he hoped. "It's a long story. Suffice to say it was the result of a poorly placed wager. After I turned down the cherry blossom tattoo, my wife thought the Bachelor's Button the next best image, considering how long I was a bachelor before meeting her." Wow. He hadn't even practiced that response. Sometimes his superior ability at lying almost frightened him.

"Does she have pink hair, by any chance?"

"Yes, that would be Sakura, my better half. You've met her?"

"No. I've just heard stories about the lovely, unusual-looking healer over at the Katayama clinic. You like them young, don't you?" Izumi's smile broadened, and her eyes narrowed slightly. An older woman never failed to bristle at the thought of a significant age difference between a man and his intended—not unless _she_ was the woman, that is. Interestingly, this seemed to be true even when the women were as close in age as Sakura and Izumi. Perhaps there was some unwritten female code that had been violated, or maybe it was simple envy. Whatever its source, it was clear that an onslaught of cattiness was about to ensue.

"There's been quite a bit of gossip about the two of you, although I didn't realize that _you_ were the husband in the stories that have been going round."

"Stories?" Kakashi looked quizzically at the gold-eyed woman, and was struck by the feline nature of her gaze. Her eyes were locked on him, he noticed, and her body tense. It seemed as though she were about to pounce.

"Some of them are a bit garbled. There's one about you kidnapping her from her parents, another about you eloping here—"

"With a four year old."

"I _said_ they were garbled. Let's see. Another one is that you're actually her father, and that the little boy, well…"

"Nice. And you came all the way out here just to tell me that?"

"No. Of course not. I'm offended." Izumi smiled in contradiction to her words. "I already told you I didn't know you were the husband in the stories. I was just making conversation."

"So why are you here?" Kakashi picked up the small bamboo basket he'd set aside and fastened it to his belt.

"Isn't it obvious?" She picked a hard, tiny fruit from the basket and tossed it in her hand. "How much do you get for each of these? A sen? Half a sen?" She tossed the tiny apple over her shoulder and into the field beyond.

"It puts food on the table."

"It puts _lunch_ in your _backpack_. Not much beyond that, I'd guess. I bet it's boring as hell, too."

Of course it was boring. How could picking immature fruit from a never-ending row of apple trees be anything _but_ boring? He cast his glance toward the coworker some half-kilometer away. At least he wasn't tying each remaining fruit into a protective paper sack. That would be beyond boring—kunai-to-the-jugular boring, to be exact.

"I don't depend on my work to be satisfying. It's not my life." It was funny to hear himself saying words like that. In truth, work was all there was, and all there'd ever been.

"So you like being poor?" She reached into her bag and pulled out a large, ripe red apple, and polished it ostentatiously before biting into it rather dramatically. She was proving some point, he guessed. Out-of-season apples were likely outrageously expensive, he guessed. Had she planned this little scene in advance?

"Who said I was poor?"

"Oh, right. The wife. You like being supported by your healer wife?"

"You know an awful lot about my family."

"It's a very small village, and like I said, you three are the talk of the town." As if sensing that he were about to turn away, she pressed her hand to his chest with discomforting familiarity. "Obviously, I'm here to offer you a job."

"As I asked you the last time we spoke, exactly what does this job entail?"

"Security. For my cousin. Since the fire, he's been restless. He's worried that someone is out to get him."

"Seems like he has cause to worry. Any details yet about the cause of the fire?"

"It was an accident, plain and simple. His wife left a candle burning on the family altar. Apparently, a dried floral arrangement caught fire."

"I see." It was interesting that she hadn't brought up the kerosene—apparently she thought she and her brother were in the clear. That assumed of course, that both of them were in on it, but the vibe this woman gave off suggested a profound lack of innocence. The detailed story she'd just related confirmed this. Hadn't she realized he'd been in the room where the fire broke out?

"There's no chance he'll come to harm. He's not powerful. He's a minor lord—I really don't see anyone mounting a campaign to assassinate or overthrow him. This simply would be to put him at ease." She smiled. "And you have to admit, you definitely look the part."

"Oh?"

"It's obvious you're ex-bushi. You have the walk, the posture, the scar, the gruffness—"

"I was a grunt. Not bushi."

"To the daimyou, that's how you'll seem. And that's all that matters."

"So you're hiring me to play a part?" Kakashi raised an eyebrow at the self-professed cousin. Presumably, she knew a thing or two about acting, herself.

"No. I'm sure you're a lot more skilled than you let on. I have every intention of using you to your fullest capacity." She smiled suggestively, prompting Kakashi to move his eyes, involuntarily, of course, over her lithe form. "And I notice you've already agreed that I'm hiring you. Good. Let's get going."

"I have this day's work to complete."

Izumi looked at him incredulously, prompting a secret, inner smile from Kakashi. He'd been right when he'd pegged her as one not used to being told 'no'. "Pick your apples, then. Be at the gate to the daimyou's residence at eight a.m. sharp tomorrow morning." She tossed her own barely eaten apple over her shoulder before turning on ridiculously tall heels to stride away.

Kakashi whistled as he returned to the long row of trees.

_Looks like we're in. We really should celebrate_

_...o...o...o...o..._

A shower was what she needed: long enough to wash away the worries of the day, and hot enough to relax her aching muscles. She was used to twelve-hour days—at both the Waterfall and Konoha hospitals, they were standard. But there was something about this clinic's seemingly never-ending stream of patients that tended to wear her out. At least at the hospital there was someone to help. But here Katayama-sensei was pretty much out of commission. She'd done too much the night of the fire, and when Sakura found her, asleep at her desk the next evening, she'd demanded that the older woman spend at least five hours each day in bed. Her employer had acquiesced, although she might have wondered just what she'd gotten herself into by hiring such an outspoken young healer. But Sakura found she didn't have time to worry about what the elder healer thought. From the moment the clinic opened at 7 am, to the moment it closed twelve hours later, her hands were full, even when Katayama-sensei was able to help her.

For such a small village, there were a remarkable number of patients to be seen. Many of them had the typical injuries one would see in a farming village: lacerations and bruises from implements, dust-scratched corneas, and one or two cases per day of heat exhaustion or dehydration. It was nothing she couldn't handle. Of course, it would have been a lot easier to treat these patients if she could draw from her full arsenal of medical techniques. She'd studied herbal remedies as thoroughly as she'd studied every other aspect of her craft, but the truth was chakra was a far better remedy than any herbal medicine.

And then there was Tsuki. With Kakashi off working in a field, somewhere, Tsuki was necessarily under Sakura's supervision. If he were walking, she would have suggested that he find neighbors to play with, but until his leg was more fully healed, she wanted him close by. And sadly, it wasn't fully healed: by the end of each grueling day, she had little energy left over, and not enough to produce and control the chakra needed to work on his leg. This cobbler's child wore no shoes, apparently. She consoled herself with the idea that a natural healing would be good for his character—it would show him how non-ninja suffered when injured. And thankfully, the fact that his leg was still broken leg made him easier to supervise. Although he was a full-fledged genin, she had a hard time imagining him resisting the temptation to run on his leg, had she secretly healed it with chakra. A four-year old, even of the precocious shinobi variety, couldn't be relied upon to suppress all the normal bodily urges of a child his age.

Unusually, Tsuki had been sleeping in lately, not clumping down the stairs to the clinic until nine a.m., or so, kitten trailing. This was probably due to the healing process—mending a bone required a huge amount of energy. Sakura had accommodated this, and the pair had fallen into a routine over the past few days. Tsuki would eat the breakfast she'd laid out for him before starting work, make his way downstairs, then sit with Katayama-sensei for a while, either in her small room, or in the walled-in garden behind the clinic. In the week they'd been in the village, he'd burned through the small collection of reading materials that could be found in the waiting area or in Sensei's quarters. The older woman had looked at Tsuki strangely as she realized his true reading ability, but had said nothing. Perhaps she was glad for the company and therefore willing to overlook any foibles she saw in her new partner's family. It was hard to tell. She could be very quiet, at times.

All in all, Tsuki had been exceptionally well-behaved—for a four-year-old, anyway. He'd been quite tolerant of the fact that there was little to do while Sakura worked, and although he gave his crutches a workout, she hadn't caught him doing anything downright dangerous each time she checked in on him. Until this afternoon, that is. She'd heard a loud, crashing noise from the room above her, where he most certainly shouldn't have been, and after quickly begging her patient's pardon had dashed upstairs to find Tsuki hanging from the ceiling. He was upside down, of course, although the broken coffee table attested to at least one failed attempt in getting to that position. Sakura felt an odd combination of pride, frustration and sentiment at that moment. She was pleased, of course, that her son would take only days to master the manipulation of chakra through his crutches, and frustrated for the very same reason. He was getting to be too much to handle. The sentiment was due to the image from her past she'd quickly glimpsed. With his hair hanging down in spiky clumps and with his eyes curved into cheek-plumped half moons, he looked too much like Kakashi did on the day he'd taught them tree walking, years before. He was truly his father's son.

The afternoon had declined from there. Her extended chat with Tsuki pushed her schedule back by a good half hour, and to make things worse, she was feeling miserable. Earlier in the week she'd felt a familiar, uncomfortable fullness, and its partner, a backache, had arrived this morning. It took another hour or two for things to truly kick into gear, but when they did it was with more vengeance than she expected.

She was therefore in no frame of mind to walk into the apartment that evening to find the shattered table still in pieces on the floor, and the dining table covered with a strange assortment of materials. It was half-set for dinner, but the tablecloth was pulled back to provide a work area containing glue, a ruler, and tape. She smiled through her annoyance. Maybe Tsuki had decided to make her a card.

Interestingly, a delightful smell was coming from the kitchen, a smell that reminded her of the fact that she hadn't even had time for lunch this day. But this smell was accompanied by the unsettling feeling that a mess would greet her once she entered that room. She was right, of course. Kakashi (and possibly, a small, crutch-bound helper) had dirtied almost every pot, pan and spatula in the small room, and left many of them in plain sight on the counter. In the sink, a complex iceberg of bowls and dishes jutted out from a sea of vegetable-stained water.

Sakura sighed as she left the room. It was sweet, truly sweet of Kakashi to attempt dinner, but if he thought she'd be cleaning up that pigsty he was sorely mistaken. She frowned as she noticed her small first aid kit open on the couch. That was no place for it. Apart from the potentially poisonous remedies it contained, it contained tools that should be kept sterile, and out of the curious hands of young children. She frowned as she picked up an extremely sharp scalpel and located its case. Even a shuriken could not cut as easily. And why was her _Encyclopedia of Herbs_ sitting out? Sakura lifted the oversize volume and was surprised when a portion of one page, and then another fluttered out.

"Kakashi? What the hell did you do to my book?" It wasn't Tsuki who'd done this. He knew better—much better—than to destroy a book. She'd raised him to treat books with the reverence they deserved.

"Oh." Kakashi emerged from Tsuki's room, the smaller ninja at his side. "I didn't realize you were home yet. Good news—"

"Screw your news. What did you do to my book?"

"Right. That. Sit down and I'll tell you about it."

Damned if she was going to sit. Sakura remained standing, hands on hips, temper barely in check.

"Izumi hired me today. We're in."

"_And_?" Sakura breathed deeply and waited for him to continue. Surely he'd connect the dots for her.

"She'll be vetting us. I'd expect someone to break in tomorrow or the next day. I needed to hide our travel documents." He opened the book to reveal a small chamber, and removed their passports from this niche. "I didn't want to leave them out in the open, but they should be able to find them if they look hard enough."

"You destroyed my encyclopedia to make a… storage container? Do you have any idea how much that book cost?"

"Feverfew. Uses. Dosages. Best place to gather. Morphology." Kakashi gazed at her with an irritatingly calm face.

"_What_?"

"Come on, Sakura. I know you have it memorized."

"So what if I do?"

"You know all ten thousand entries by heart, don't you?"

"So? I _need_ that book. It's a reference. It belongs to _me_. You have no right—"

She stopped herself from finishing and stormed out of the room. Suddenly she'd lost her appetite for both dinner and arguing.

...o...o...o...o...

He wasn't vindictive, although he was sure that was how Sakura had interpreted their conversation. She thought he was a spiteful, grudge-holding, immature bastard of a partner. She couldn't be more wrong, apart from the bastard part. The loss of his _Icha, Icha_ books had crossed his mind at most only once as he'd modified the large book into a makeshift safe. He hadn't cut into the book with the intention of paying her back, and it was wrong of her to think so. He'd put a lot of thought into choosing a hiding place for their documents. He was sure Izumi would check into their pasts—their conversation had suggested she had already started to do so. Tossing the apartment was the likely next step. He'd approach it more cautiously, were he in her shoes, but she seemed to think no one was on to her, and an obvious break-in seemed more her style. At any rate, the documents naming them as Fuyuno-tachi needed to be hidden away, not tucked into a drawer or empty shoebox. It was important that they seem to be making an effort hide their "true" identities, so that their discovery would bring with it a sense of accomplishment and completion. Therefore it seemed like a very good idea to go to the trouble of actually building a hiding place. It was a hiding place that a ninja would laugh at, to be sure, but that was rather the point. He wanted them to appear as anything but professionals.

He would have used his own book, but the only one with him was his kenjutsu book. It wasn't very valuable, but _A Book of Five Rings_ was notably short. It wouldn't work as a hiding place. Of all Sakura's books, the herb encyclopedia seemed the best bet. He remembered her pulling the hefty book from her pack on numerous occasions, back in the time of Team Kakashi. She'd even asked him to quiz her, though he'd refused. Naruto had done the honors, he remembered, badly mangling each Latin name. It was clear she didn't need the book, so he'd had no qualms cutting into it. Certainly she didn't have a sentimental attachment to it. That would be pointless.

Still, he should apologize, if only to clear the air. Knowing Sakura, she was probably upset about something else. The sooner they got to the bottom of things, the better.

"What are you thinking about? You look sad."

"Your mom. I don't know why she's so upset."

"Duh! You ruined her book. Mom thinks books are… holy, or something."

Kakashi sighed. That sounded just like Sakura. "I'd better talk to her."

Tsuki shifted in his seat, and stirred his noodles with his chopsticks.

"I probably should, too. I bet she's upset about the table I broke."

"I don't think so, Tsuki. I'm sure Katayama-sensei will allow us to replace it. But maybe you can show me your new technique before bed. You should be getting ready, shouldn't you? Hurry up and finish dinner while I talk to your mom, then get into pajamas. I'll tuck you in when I'm done."

She wasn't sleeping, he noticed as he quietly opened her door. Her back was to him, and she was huddled into a semi-fetal position, but her breathing was irregular. An occasional deeper, ragged breath punctuated the near silence. She must have been crying.

"Sakura?" No answer. He crossed the room and sat on the other side of the bed.

"I know you're awake." Still no answer.

"I didn't do it out of spite."

"Right."

"You don't believe me."

"Why should I? You're not exactly a truth teller."

"You're wrong. I've never lied about the important stuff."

"Whatever. It really doesn't matter. You're right. It's just a book." Her pillow was getting wet, he feared, if not from tears, then from the sarcasm dripping freely from her tongue.

"Is this the only thing you're angry about?"

"Isn't it enough? Are you actually judging the necessity for my anger?"

"No. No." He tried to make his voice soothing. "It just seems like something else is bothering you." He had a pretty good idea of what it was, but didn't dare bring it up. The last thing he needed was to be accused of sexism.

"What if you're right? Why should you care?"

"I'm your partner, Sakura. Maybe I can help."

"Do you really want to know?" She sat up and turned to face him, staring directly into his eyes with an intensity he rarely saw from her. "Fine. I have cramps, Kakashi. Wicked, painful cramps. They hurt so bad I can feel them in my thighs." She pulled her knees towards her to better rub her upper legs. "My fucking _thighs_. Referred pain, you know? Right here. And my back is killing me."

"Oh."

"_'Oh_.' Is that all you've got? No ideas? No suggestions resulting from your vast wealth of personal experience?" Her eyes, already narrowed by the puffiness of her tear stained face, closed further.

He wasn't sure how to respond, but had a sinking feeling that any response—even no response—would land him in hot water. He decided to keep it neutral and short. "Did you take anything?"

"I'm a medic. Of course I took something." She didn't add an epithet, but the look in her eyes suggested that a choice one was at the ready.

"Can I help? A backrub, maybe?"

"No." She turned away from him dismissively.

"Okay, then. I'll put Tsuki to bed. Then I'm going out for a while." He certainly deserved a drink, if not for putting up with Sakura's extreme irritability, then for today's achievement. He was sure he'd find someone to celebrate with, even unknowingly. Drunks were useful that way.

...o...o...o...o...

She wasn't the person she wanted to be. That person was patient and kind, one who didn't jump to conclusions or down another's throat at the slightest provocation. It didn't matter that she felt like crap tonight. A little pain shouldn't prompt the disappearance of qualities she was capable of displaying. This wasn't new to her, after all. It all but disappeared after Tsuki's birth, which was a common occurrence, but now it had returned with a vengeance. Worse, there was no remedy she knew of to help—she'd tried all of the herbs suggested for womanly ills—chaste berry, valerian, raspberry leaf, but nothing seemed to help. Still, she was quite capable of hiding her discomfort. She'd been patient and kind all day, to patients. But those qualities had evaporated once she crossed her home's threshold. A broken table and messy kitchen shouldn't have provoked the reaction she'd displayed. The fact that Kakashi had destroyed her book shouldn't have set her off, either. Hell, she'd deserved that one, regardless of his intent.

Ironically, she'd realized as he spoke to her that he'd done so without malice. She'd grown adept at reading him, now that his face was no longer hidden by a mask, but she hadn't needed to see his face tonight to know he wasn't lying. She'd heard his innocence clearly in his voice. Once again she'd drawn her conclusions too quickly, and tarred him with the brush she'd used so frequently of late. She owed him an apology, and she should have apologized to him then and there. But she'd hung on to her anger, and to her petty vindictiveness, like a child clinging to a threadbare, favorite blanket. It wasn't the cramps that caused her to do that. It was something deeper.

That something deeper had made Kakashi leave tonight, she thought as she stepped into the bathroom for her long-awaited shower. He hadn't come home smelling of alcohol since the night of the fire, and even then he hadn't gone overboard. He'd seemed to be settling into a routine. He seemed to _like_ going out to work each day and coming home to a family dinner, and a bit of rollicking fun with the student who was also his son. He'd been solitary for so long—perhaps he saw this as a novelty or a welcome distraction. Regardless, in the past week, all three of them had begun to settle into a comfortable, quasi-family relationship. She'd doubtless screwed all that up, however. She turned her back to the hard, pelting spray of water after opening the hot tap as much as possible. This was part punishment and part treatment. The skin-reddening heat soothed her achiness, though it didn't take all of the pain away. But it did do enough to allow her to feel hunger, not nausea.

Once the water ran cold, she wrapped a towel around herself, padded into the kitchen and quickly found the container of yakisoba that had been tonight's dinner. It was now cold, but its contents were still delicious, and Sakura tucked into it without bothering to serve it into a bowl. He'd cleaned the kitchen, she realized once she turned away from her impromptu meal before the open refrigerator. The room was spotless, though he'd doubtless put things away in the wrong place. And the broken table had been cleared away, she noticed as she entered the living room. The surprise should have been pleasant, but it wasn't. Once again, she'd assumed the worst of him.

She wasn't the person she'd promised herself she'd be, she thought as she looked in on her sleeping son, his kitten nestled into the crook of his arm. As a child, she'd wanted to be a splendid shinobi, as Rock Lee had so aptly put it. As a mother, she wanted to be someone Tsuki could look up to. She'd seen the eye rolls he sometimes made in her direction, and though it would have been tempting to blame them on Kakashi's influence, they weren't his doing. Tsuki had been doing them for a while, now, before they'd ever left Waterfall. He was growing apart from her, as all children do, though his growth was doubtless accelerated by his giftedness. He was becoming his own person, and beginning to see himself as distinct from her. What did he see when he looked at her? Was she someone he could be proud of, or someone to dismiss, eventually, as a font of negativity?

Her bitterness encased her like a hard, brittle shell, she realized, and it had the potential to affect her son's view of her, and his view of the world. It needed to disappear—to be shattered with a few well-placed blows and swept away with the other rubbish she'd been nurturing these years. Tsuki couldn't grow up thinking that the only constant in life was hurt. That wouldn't serve him well. A ninja—_any_ human—should believe that the world was intrinsically a good place, that although people were capable of great malice, they were also capable of love, kindness and generosity. That was the view of every one she'd ever loved (except Sasuke), and it once had been her view as well. It needed to become so again-- not only for Tsuki's sake, but for her own. She was tired, she realized, of being constantly angry, constantly closed off and completely empty inside.

Sakura sighed as she entered the master bedroom and pulled out her night clothes. It was one thing for her subconscious to state, during a dream that she needed to forgive-- that she needed to let go. It was apparently quite another for her conscious self to accomplish this task. She'd been trying all week. But now she realized that there was far more to the task than she'd realized. It wasn't just Kakashi she needed to forgive. She'd allowed one night, five years ago, and a brief, painful encounter weeks later to color every aspect of her life since then. It had molded her into this person she no longer wanted to be. Kakashi hadn't done this to her. He was guilty, true, of being a miserable, womanizing lout, but he hadn't known the outcome of his actions. Of _their_ actions. And he hadn't set her on the path she'd taken since then. She'd stepped foot on it of her own volition, and she'd walked the path willingly. Until now. It was time to take a new path, one that didn't involve punishing herself.

This is what Yuki had been telling her, she realized as she climbed into bed and turned off the bedside lamp. His whole life had been an example of letting go, of accepting with grace what life dealt him, and releasing his attachment to the useless emotions of hate and unhappiness. She needed to let go, he had told her in the dream. But she'd misunderstood. She needed to let go of all of it, not just her anger at Kakashi. Sakura settled into bed with a small smile as she thought of the man who'd so inspired her. She could do this. She had to.

...o...o...o...o...

"You don't need to be quiet. I'm awake."

"Ah. Mind if I turn on the light? Cover your eyes."

She ignored him, of course, and he watched her blink several times as her eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness of the room.

"You're back early."

"I just needed a walk. Here. I got you something." Kakashi handed a brown paper bag to Sakura, who eyed it curiously before removing its contents.

"A heating pad?" He watched as her lips turned upward in the slightest smile.

"I remember my mom using one. Hope it's not hopelessly outdated."

"Thank you. It's not. It might help. You really didn't—"

He interrupted. "Of course I did. You're my partner. Let me plug that in." He knelt by the bed, then rose to look at her with astonishment. "Why are you crying?"

"You… Shit. Now you've made this even harder."

"Huh?"

"I need to apologize to you, stupid."

He laughed. "Well, you're off to a great start." Her lip was trembling, he noticed. Apparently she was quite serious in her request. "Seriously, though. Don't. You don't need to. We all have bad days."

"No. It's not that. I mean, it is that, but it's more."

"Sakura—"

"This is hard enough without you interrupting." She looked away from him, suddenly taking an extreme interest in the switch on the heating pad's power cord. "Would you be willing-- I know I was horrible before, but if you're still willing to give me that back rub, I'd appreciate it."

"Hurts that bad, huh?"

"Yes, but… I… it just would be easier to talk to you if I don't have to look at you."

"Sure thing. Lie down on your stomach, and pull up your shirt." She surprised him by completely removing the familiar indigo tank top, although her back was turned to him as she did so. He knelt beside her on the bed, and gently moved his hands along her spine until they found the small of her back. "So? What's so horrible that you can't look at me while you tell me?"

"It wasn't right to hate you. Because I did. With every fiber of my being."

"I know. You have every right to. I was a bast--"

"_No_. Not _every_ right. I had the right to be disappointed, and disillusioned. But not to hate you. I never gave you the chance to do the right thing. I ran away."

"You were scared." And who knew if he _would_ have done the right thing? The thought troubled him. Would he have turned her away if he had known? He was pretty sure he knew the answer, so he pushed the thought aside and focused instead on her back, straddling her hips to press against her more effectively. He could feel the knot of tension nestled into the curve of her lower back, and he carefully kneaded her flesh in an effort to untangle it. He smiled when he heard the sigh that told him he was successful. Funny how massage was so much like sex.

"Better?"

"Yeah. But don't stop. It feels nice."

Kakashi slid his hands along her spine, and suppressed a sigh as she moved her arms above her head. In doing so, she'd inadvertently exposed the flattened curve of her breasts against the coverlet. He willed his hands not stray from the center of her back, though he was sure that skin was as soft and supple as he remembered.

"Could you work on my shoulders? They're tight."

"You're right. Move your arms down. Do you take the time to stretch during work?"

She laughed into her pillow. "Are you kidding? My work day is like being lowered into a lake full of piranha at dawn, and being pulled out at dusk. Constant nibbling all day long—each patient takes a piece of me. I'm so tired of touching people by the end of the day that I want to scream. No wonder I'm such a bitch."

Kakashi chuckled. "You're not a bitch, Sakura."

"Yes, I am. Especially at this time of the month. I'm surprised you can stand to be in the same room with me."

His chuckle turned into a low, sonorous laugh. "Sakura, you're always moody. You always have been. I probably shouldn't tell you this, but—"

"But what?" Her voice was muffled by the pillow.

"Sai and Naruto—well, Sai had a calendar at the front of his sketchbook, and he and Naruto used to argue incessantly about, well…"

"About when I was having my period?" She shook her head slightly. "And you know this…why? Did you join in?"

"No, of course not! Besides, they were way off." Crap. He probably shouldn't have said that last part. He felt the muscles of her upper back stiffen underneath his hands as the words sunk in.

"How would _you_ know if they were way off?" She lifted her torso and twisted around to face him as best she could, exposing herself in the process, much to his chagrin. Now would not be a good time to sneak a peek. Even someone as clueless as he could figure that much out.

"Is this some Sharingan thing? No. Oh, no! You can smell when someone is--?!" She collapsed into her pillow, and Kakashi observed that not only her face and neck colored when she was embarrassed, but almost all of her skin.

"Sakura—"

"You're like a fucking dog sniffing someone's crotch! Can you tell when a woman's ovulating, too?"

"I don't know. I've never—"

"_Why do you tell me things like this_?"

He sighed. "Why does this bother you so much? It's just blood, Sakura. It's our stock in trade. How is this any different from getting wounded in the field?"

"Are you really that stupid, Hatake Kakashi?"

"I…I guess I am. Enlighten me. Please." He couldn't hide the note of weariness in his voice. Sometimes she was absolutely exhausting to be around. He almost regretted bypassing the tavern that evening.

"It's personal, baka. Intensely personal. I always worried that I was slowing down the team. I always worked twice as hard on those days. I always tried to hide that I felt like shit. I always tried to be extra nice to Naruto, and even to Sai. And now I learn that I was putting the team at risk-- that we could have been tracked."

"There's plenty of blood in the woods-- death is a daily event. The smell of blood isn't an unusual thing. We would have been tracked only if someone knew your scent, the same way dogs track using a shirt or sock. And anyway, very few people have such an acute sense of smell. Kiba, certainly…"

The pinkness of her back indicated she was blushing again. Kakashi wondered what Inuzuka-related indignity his teammate was reliving.

"Is that why men don't want kunoichi on their team? Is that why you never did?"

"What? What the hell are you talking about?"

"You ignored me. You made it clear I wasn't as important as the rest. Even Sai got more attention from you, and he was a goddamn spy."

"You think the fact that you bleed once a month would make me think less of you? Damn it, Sakura. Why do you always think the worst of me? I bleed at least five times a month myself. You know that. We all do. You're a _medic_. Act like one."

Apparently he had gotten through. She didn't object, he noted, when he started to massage her again. He worked more slowly this time, running his fingers in long trails on either side of her spine.

"A little humiliation is good for the soul, you know," he ventured after a while.

"Then I must be approaching sainthood." She chuckled in a rare outward display of self-disparagement.

"Don't be ashamed of who you are. I've never thought less of you. If I ignored you, it was because you were so much more self-sufficient than Naruto or Sasuke. Or even Sai." He continued his gentle exploration of her back. "That's not quite true. I never understood exactly how to relate to you, and part of that was because you're female. But it had nothing to do with bleeding. Think about it. For good or bad, you and I are linked together. We have a son. And that wouldn't be possible—"

"I know. You're right. I overreacted again." She sighed.

"You put up walls, Sakura. You're as bad as me, I think."

"What walls have you put up?"

"A few." He laughed. "They define my life actually. Everything you know about me is part of an elaborately constructed facade."

"The mask."

"Check."

"The book."

"Check."

"But those walls are gone for the moment." She hadn't mentioned the drinking, he noticed, or the endless string of S class missions, done solo, of course.

"Yes, they are." He smiled, although she was in no position to see it. "Though not by choice, I might add."

"Sorry about that."

"It's for the best. It makes our team stronger. So why don't you take down a few of your own?"

She was quiet for quite a while, though he felt her relax perceptibly as he continued to massage her. Finally, she spoke in a voice that suggested she was almost asleep.

"Will you help?"

"Of course, Sakura. Of course."


	18. Chapter 18 Matsuri

**A Book of Five Rings**

**Chapter 18 – Matsuri**

"What's all that noise?" Sakura raised the window in the clinic's waiting room to peer outside.

"They're building the stage for the Hatsuhara festival next week."

"'First rose'?"

"It's a misnomer. The name is meant to celebrate the start of summer, but the festival comes a bit late each year, considering our weather. You'll come, won't you?" The elderly healer shifted on her crutches, and Sakura wondered if there was a way that she might apply chakra to her injury without the older woman noticing. It would be months, otherwise, before she was healed enough to walk again: it took ages for the elderly bones to mend.

"Is this the village's big festival?"

"Yes. There'll be visitors from all over grass, and even from neighboring countries. Our merchants depend on it for the bulk of their sales."

"Tsuki will love it. He's never been to one. Things were too chaotic in Waterfall for there to be any festivals."

Katayama-sensei face lit up with a smile. "Yes, I'll bet he will. Of course, that boy seems to find joy in everything he does." She glanced to the corner, where Tsuki sat petting his kitten. It had grown considerably in the previous two weeks. "Every year there's fireworks, booths, even a petting zoo."

Tsuki looked up sharply. "Any chance of big cats?"

"At the festival? Oh, my, no. Gold fish, yes, but big cats…" The senior healer's laugh was a well-used rasp, and the wrinkles of the accompanying smile a well-worn indication of her many happy years.

"Oh." Tsuki looked down a bit glumly. "I really want to see a tiger, sometime soon. Sen— _Dad_ keeps telling me about the tigers he's seen. Can you even imagine how huge they are?" He moved his hands some distance apart. "Their paws are this big!"

"I have no doubt you'll see a tiger eventually, Tsuki." Sakura smiled after briskly shutting the window. "Just not here."

"But Dad saw one—"

"That was probably an escapee from a zoo. There are tigers on Mizu, I think, but not on this continent. I really don't know how he could have seen one." She refrained from rolling her eyes.

"So can we go?" Tsuki clumped along next to her as she left the room. "To the festival, I mean."

"Of course. It sounds like something we wouldn't want to miss."

"And will my cast be off by then?"

"We'll have to see what Sensei thinks, but yes, I think so."

Tsuki nearly flew down the hallway on his crutches, cat balanced precariously on one shoulder. "I can't wait!"

Sakura opened the exam room door to find her first patient already there, and in the act of undressing.

"Oh. Mizushima-sama! Excuse me."

"No worries." The curly-haired man she had stitched up quite a few days prior grinned. "Call me

Karai. Everyone does. Well, except my sister."

"You were supposed to stop by last week to let me to take a look at those sutures. That type of wound gets infected easily."

"I got busy."

"Let me look at your hand." Sakura rolled a stool in front of him, before taking his hand in her own. "It's healing nicely." She rose, quickly scrubbed and pulled on gloves, and pulled a sterile suture kit from a drawer. "Most people don't care for this, but there are only a few to remove. It will only take a moment." She quickly snipped each stitch, then pulled sharply, pressing a sterile pad over the droplets of blood that formed in the wake of each tiny tear. "Done." She smiled, pleased with her work, and suddenly wondered why he was shirtless.

"I have a cold," he answered before she asked.

She stood and warmed her stethoscope in her hand before placing it against his chest, which, she noticed, was nicely defined and evenly colored. The beautiful, warm color of his skin was not a tan, she realized. "You _do_ sound congested." She moved the metal and rubber instrument to his back, and listened intently before thumping him smartly in several locations. "There's nothing I can do for a cold, though. You realize that, don't you?" She moved her hands to the base of his jaw to feel his glands, pushing aside a small cascade of curls as she did so, then grabbed a paper-wrapped tongue depressor. "Let me take a look at your throat. Wider. Hmm. It seems to be fine, and you don't have a fever either. All you need," she said, standing up to write some notes in his chart, "is a few days rest."

"No cataplasm or unguent?" He looked as glum as Tsuki had, only minutes before.

"_Cataplasm_?" She giggled. "I haven't heard that term for a while." Apparently Karai was a reader. Either that, or he had a healer in the family—a healer who used the most archaic of terminology. "No, no poultices or creams. They really don't do much unless you have a fever or infection. A prescription for ginger tea is all I can offer. It has antiviral properties. And take plenty of hot showers—the steam is good for congestion. Will that satisfy you?" The smile he offered in reply was infectious, and she found herself nearly laughing at his puppy-dog expression.

"I guess. When I was little, my mom used to smear a nasty concoction across my chest."

"Menthol, probably. Did she give you cod liver oil, as well?"

"You must be psychic, Fuyuno-sensei. How did you guess?" His lashes, she noticed were quite long. Longer than hers, certainly, and tipped with gold. And when the light hit his hair just right, it resembled a corona—a glowing halo of sunshine that imparted to him a near-angelic quality. He must be popular with the women, she mused.

"She sounds very old-fashioned. Unfortunately, we don't have any menthol or eucalyptus leaves here, so that type of poultice is out of the question. And as for the oil, it's better to eat the fish whole."

"Yeah, but there's not too much fresh fish around here."

"No, not salt water fish. But I'll bet you can find _dried_ cod, if you look around. Then again, my mom always made chicken soup. It did the trick. And there are plenty of hens around here." She smiled as she thought of both her mother and this village's noisy, animal overrun marketplace. They'd certainly landed in a slow-moving, traditional village. Her mom would have loved this place.

"Can we have your mom come by, then? I'm sure I can pick up a chicken at the market."

"No. She's… dead, actually."

His eyes widened slightly, and his golden skin was quickly overlaid with the faintest pink hue. "I'm sorry. I always put my foot in it."

"Don't be. Death is as much a part of life as birth is." She quickly changed the subject. "You know my husband, I take it."

"Not really. Izumi keeps him busy."

Sakura looked at her patient quizzically. "And she doesn't keep _you_ busy?"

"We don't see eye to eye on a whole lot. And she's the ambitious one, anyway."

"Oh." This was useful information. Perhaps she could flip him. It shouldn't be too hard. Apparently he was the slacker of the pair. His posture, even his bored gaze suggested he was used to a life of leisure. He might find turning the tables on his sister to be quite entertaining. Sakura made a mental note to discuss the possibilities with Kakashi.

"I do mostly menial tasks for her. Errands and the like." He grinned as he looked at his watch, but did not rise from his seat. "I'm supposed to be on one now."

"Well, don't let me keep you."

"I won't." Still, he did not move.

"We're done here, and I'll need this room for my next patient." She picked up her clipboard and moved to the door, wondering why he still had made no move to put his shirt on. He was definitely a strange one, though admittedly quite handsome. "I'll just give you a moment to get dressed."

"Sensei."

"Yes?"

"If I'm not feeling better in a couple of days—"

"Stop back in if you feel worse or develop a fever." Karai was apparently a bit of a hypochondriac. "You know what?" Sakura returned to his side. "Here's something Izumi can do for you. Have her hold her hand, like this." She cupped her hand. "And have her whack it firmly against your back and side, like this." Sakura struck his back repeatedly, and Karai coughed loudly in response. "Better? Have her do that in the morning, and again at night. It will get things moving."

"The problem is, she won't do that for me." He smile was simultaneously rueful and winning. "We're not on the best of terms, at the moment."

"Surely there's someone at the compound who will." She thought for a minute. "I know. Ask my husband. He'll be happy to help out."

"Musashi?" The golden-haired man laughed. "I already told you, Izumi is keeping him busy. Couldn't I just stop by here?"

Sakura sighed. "Sure. If there's really no one else… I guess that's okay."

That was her problem, she mused as she finally left the room. It was why she felt piranha-attacked at the end of each day. Her patients invariably asked too much of her, and somehow she was unable to say no. She'd tell Karai tomorrow that she was too busy for extra nursing of this type. She really didn't have time.

But even if she cut out the extraneous favors, she still had too much work to do. She needed to get Katayama-sensei back on her feet. A sudden idea presented itself, and Sakura nearly jumped in delight, barely restraining herself from opening the door on the senior healer and her current patient.

"Sensei," she asked when the healer was finally free, "have you heard of reiki work?'

* * *

"You look beautiful."

And she did. Kakashi gazed admiring at Sakura, who had dressed this evening in a cerise yukata sprinkled liberally with wild roses, and belted informally with a wide, tangerine anesan obi. She'd put her hair up, he noticed, with combs that were also embellished with simple, five-petaled roses, though that didn't prevent wisps of fine hair from trailing against her neck, or a thick fringe from covering her forehead. In addition, a simple kanzashi with carved, dangling flowers poked out from the small bun she'd pulled her hair into. She looked casual but beautifully elegant, he decided, though it was clear that she was altogether ignorant of that fact.

She'd objected when he suggested that she buy a kimono for the Festival of the First Rose, but after a bit of nagging on his part, she'd finally relented. They certainly could afford it, he'd argued. Izumi was paying per week as much as he'd earn on an extended A-class mission. And, he'd continued, it was vital to the mission's success that they be accepted as a family. What better occasion than a village-wide festival to showcase themselves? And wouldn't any man in his shoes want to show off a wife as lovely as she? He'd left this last part unsaid, however, as he was sure it would set off a bout of contrary behavior. She'd probably accuse him of lying, or worse. He certainly didn't need another onslaught of paranoid behavior. Interestingly, though, he hadn't experienced any. She seemed on an even keel of late, almost placid, in fact.

Sakura smiled now as she turned towards him, a slight blush on her cheeks, and Kakashi noted, not for the first time, how different she seemed of late. Something had happened to her in the past few weeks. Her reserve towards him was gone, as were the intermittent displays of hostility he'd experienced from her until recently. Even in bed she was different. He woke each morning to find her cuddled up against him, as though she were using him as her oversized teddy bear. The first time it happened, he'd worried about her likely response upon waking. It was the night after he'd given her the much-needed massage, and she'd fallen asleep face down on the bed, and barely clothed. He'd awoken the next morning to find her pressed against him, with not the slightest scrap of fabric to separate the warm, soft flesh of her torso from his own. To make matters slightly worse, he'd felt her nipples harden as she unconsciously (and quite innocently, he was sure) rubbed against him. He'd had to meditate on the most boring aspects of kunai and shuriken trajectories to keep things under control. He hadn't dared to attempt to unravel her twisted limbs from his own, instead waiting for the storm that was likely to break as she woke. But she'd been almost nonchalant about the whole thing, merely rolling over, then rising with her back to him, as though it were completely normal to sleep pressed tight against ones workmate. What's more, she'd been calm and relaxed since then. There had been absolutely no repercussions, either that morning or on any since, although regrettably, she'd chosen to wear her familiar tank and shorts to bed since then. Still, she seemed to be happy. She even laughed from time to time. He wondered what had caused this change in her.

Tsuki had noticed it as well, though he hadn't mentioned it aloud. But Kakashi could tell by the boy's giggling that he was happier. "We're ready to go!" he now shouted with the inimitable glee of a four-year old.

"We? Tsuki, you can't take Susu with you."

"Why not?" The boy was clearly taken aback at his mother's words. The kitten did, after all, go with him everywhere, although until very recently "everywhere" had consisted of the apartment, the walled-in backyard and the clinic.

"The fireworks will scare him," Kakashi answered, not failing to notice Sakura's small smile of relief at his support. "He might run off, Tsuki—you wouldn't want that, would you?"

Tsuki gently set the gangly feline on the floor, but clung to his pout and creased brow. After determining that this particular look was not producing the anticipated results, he called the young cat to follow him into his bedroom.

"Besides," Kakashi called after him, "you never know. We might see a tiger. It's a well-known fact that tigers consider kittens to be food."

The boys eyes widened, as Sakura's closed for a moment in frustration. She clearly mouthed to Kakashi, "Don't go there."

He shrugged in response, in an earnest attempt to provoke her. He grinned inwardly at the result. There was a hint of the controlling, easily angered Sakura he knew. Interestingly, the small glimpse comforted him.

"Tonight's the night," he said quietly once Tsuki was out of earshot.

"For what?"

"Our place hasn't been searched yet."

She nodded. She'd pointed out several times to him that the low-tech detection system-- a silver hair glued into the book-safe-- hadn't been broken, and the indistinguishable (to civilian eyes) seals they'd placed along the windows and doors each time they locked them remained untouched until their return.

"It's really not a surprise, since you're always nearby. But they'll probably attempt it tonight. Izumi asked me several times today if we were going to the festival. She highly recommended the musical act playing from eight to ten."

"I see. So we've got plans."

"Yup. Back in a minute." Kakashi entered their shared bedroom, mounted the room's only chair, and gently removed a stained tile from the room's dropped ceiling. This revealed the small cache of shinobi weapons he'd suspended in the dark recess above it. He unhooked the cloth bag, and slipped it into his backpack. He doubted Izumi's men would be savvy enough to discover this hiding place, but it was much better to be safe than sorry. Even the most ill-trained flunkie would recognize shinobi tools when he saw them. Kakashi carefully replaced the tile in the ceiling, slung the pack over his shoulder and rejoined Sakura in the hallway.

"So we're going to listen to music while our apartment is ransacked?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "Of course not. The best time to spy on them is when they're spying on us. And Tsuki needs a little espionage training, anyway. I'm guessing you could use a refresher as well." That was putting it mildly. She probably hadn't been in the field once in the past five years, and even if she had been, he doubted Waterfall ninja would have had anything to teach her.

Sakura smiled in bashful agreement. "He'll be excited. Skeleton staff?"

"Gate keeper and groundsman. That should be it." He sighed. "This will be good. I haven't had much time for him lately." Izumi was… well, _frustrating_ wasn't the right word. _Incredibly demanding_ was more accurate. She expected twelve-hour days, and in the short time he'd been a member of her staff, his duties has expanded significantly. She seemed to trust, him, though, and that was good.

"Well, with his broken leg, he couldn't have done much." It was strange to hear Sakura making excuses for him. He'd expected her to be annoyed by the fact that he'd let Tsuki's training lapse.

"Apart from perfecting his chakra control." Kakashi couldn't hide the pride in his voice, despite the wry intervening thought that as usual, he'd had nothing to do with his student's achievement.

Sakura smiled. "Right."

"How's Katayama-sensei's leg coming along?" he asked as Tsuki rejoined them and they left the apartment, Kakashi quickly tagging the door with a surreptitious seal.

"Oh, good. She's definitely responding to the reiki treatment." That was for Sensei's ears. Reiki, at least as practiced by civilian healers, had no effect on broken bones. That wasn't because of a flaw in the technique or the theory behind it; rather it was because most civilians had a limited capacity to perceive, let alone mold chakra. But despite its reputation, Katayama-sensei had been eager to try the new reiki-based treatment Sakura had described so excitedly. It would have been perfect, Kakashi thought, if she'd produced a journal article in support of it, but as they were in the middle of nowhere, far from the nearest master forger, let alone printing press, Sakura had been forced to rely instead on a sudden "recollection" of the paper and its technique. Her enthusiasm had quickly won over the older healer, and Kakashi couldn't help but feel a bit of pride in both his partner's acting skills and her obvious desire to help her injured employer. Over the years, he noted, Sakura had grown into her dual roles of kunoichi and medic. She knew her strengths in both areas, and used them to her advantage. He was, he realized, pleased to be working with her, and pleased to see how far she'd advanced, even though it was without his help.

The old woman was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, dressed as drably as ever, though she seemed less tired. Kakashi noticed that indeed, Sakura's treatments were helping. Sensei was placing a portion of her weight on her affected leg, something she wouldn't have been able to do for months, if not treated. The jounin smiled. This was probably the source of some of Sakura's happiness. Her workload had been far too intense lately, and now that Katayama-sensei was able to move around more easily, she pitched in more often. The fact that Sakura was able to use her chakra-based healing techniques was undoubtedly involved in the mood change, as well. Sakura was true medic, and it was easy to see how much it hurt her when she couldn't give her utmost to each patient.

The woman wasn't a risk, they'd agreed. She'd been born and raised in the village, and apparently had never left, apprenticing instead with the village's previous healer. There was a minimal likelihood that she had any nefarious connections to the daimyou or his so-called cousins. In fact, Sakura had pointed out how annoyed she'd been to find Karai showing up on her doorstep each morning, waiting for his treatment.

"Good evening, Sensei. Will you be joining us this evening?" Kakashi gave the slightest bow as he approached the woman. Her face crinkled into the smile she so often wore, and her near-black eyes sparkled with interest.

"No, I'm afraid not. I'd love to, but I should probably rest. You agree, don't you, Sakura?"

"Well, we could use a wheelchair…"

"Heavens, no! I don't want to be pushed around all evening. I'd just be in your way. Besides, I've been to every Hatsuhara Matsuri since I was a little girl. I know the events like the back of my hand. But there's nothing like festival food, is there? If you wouldn't mind bringing back some takoyaki, I'd greatly appreciate it." Her face crinkled further as a small laugh escaped her.

"Sure thing, sensei!" Tsuki bolted past the gathered group and to the front door. "Come on! We'll be late!"

* * *

The festival was not what Sakura had expected. While there was stall after stall of trinkets and small handmade items, and stall after stall of vendors selling festival food—okonomiyaki, teriyaki, and dango, as well as the requested fried octopus balls—it seemed better organized than any festival she'd attended in the hidden leaf village. And it differed in other ways, as well. She heard a number of foreign languages, and it was clear that many of the vendors were from elsewhere in Grass, if not from other countries. It was more of a bazaar than festival and more secular in feeling. Outside of the several rows of stalls selling the items she was used to, there were rug, clothing, housewares and spice merchants, and plenty of haggling customers. There was a central dining area, as well, not far from the large, central stage. The village apparently meant business with this festival—Sensei had been truthful when she described it as critical to the villagers' livelihood.

She saw Kakashi look toward the roped off area where the heavy drinking was occurring. Perhaps he was feeling the need for some alcohol. It was probably stressful to pretend to be a husband and father when you had no clue about either. But no, that didn't seem to be it. There was a definite look of surprise on his face when the people he'd waved to turned away and ignored him. That was strange. Despite his aloof nature, she'd never seen Kakashi snubbed before. Maybe this had something to do with his recent employment. She'd have to ask her patients—discreetly, of course—how Izumi and Karai were viewed by this community.

"Can we go to the petting zoo? Please?" Tsuki turned to Kakashi with this request. Her son, she noted, had fallen quickly into the typical family dynamic, with father as decision-maker. On a typical day, this might irk her, but tonight she decided to ignore it. After all, it fit the public image they were trying to establish.

"Yes, but first, there's someplace special I heard about."

"What is it?" She couldn't help asking, as she'd noticed Kakashi's barely suppressed grin as he spoke to her son.

"Honestly, you're as bad as this one." He ruffled the boy's spiky hair as he spoke. "You'll both find out in just a minute."

And it only did take a minute to find the small tent with the orange and black sign outside, crudely painted with the words: "Tiger visits—50 sen." A long line trailed from the tent, but Tsuki was heedless of it.

"I have 50 sen! Let's go!" Tsuki rushed inside before either Kakashi or Sakura could stop him, and they quickly followed suit. He was already petting the small cub, who was held safely in its owner's arms.

"It's rougher than I thought it would be. Susu's fur is much softer. And look how big he is for a kitten! Mom! Dad! Can you hear him? He's purring!"

Sakura thought her son might die of pleasure when the cub licked him with its rough, pink tongue, then curled in its owners arms as though it wanted to play. She looked at Kakashi and noticed his broad smile. Was it because he'd obviously pleased Tsuki or was it in response to being called, "Dad"?

"Can I get a tiger?"

"I could have told you this was coming," Sakura murmured under her breath, but she was anything but upset. There was definitely a bond growing between her former sensei and her son, and surprisingly, she found that she was okay with it. Tsuki was happy, and Kakashi hadn't done anything suspect in the time they'd been together. On the contrary, he seemed to be a good influence on her son.

"No tigers," she heard Kakashi reply to Tsuki. She breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was taking responsibility for the mess he'd just created. "What would Susu do?"

"They'd be friends. Totally. Stripes could be his big brother."

"And next…" Sakura said in a voice so soft that only Kakashi could hear.

"Why don't _I_ have a brother? Mom?" Kakashi snorted with laughter as he caught her eye, obviously looking forward to her response. Bastard.

"Wow. That's a good question." Sakura shrugged dramatically, eyes widened for effect. "Bad luck, I guess"

They wandered the festival for the next hour or so, grazing on the many grilled and deep-fried offerings. Tsuki's capacity to put away such junk food amazed Sakura. She'd never had much of a taste for sweets or fried garbage herself, and neither, to her knowledge, did Kakashi. To no one's surprise, the boy gained a second wind after dinner, and tore around the dining pavilion while his parents continued to eat. Apparently he was making up for time lost while on his crutches. Finally, Kakashi scooped him up and sat him on his shoulders, and the trio headed out.

The main stage was occupied by the village's kendo club, and at Tsuki's request, he and his parents moved closer, choosing seats where they were sure to be seen, if one were looking for them. Tsuki was mesmerized by the action on stage. The kendoka had just finished their kata and were now in the midst of sparring. They were of varying levels of talent, but several stood out—easily outmaneuvering and overwhelming their partners. One of these turned, after bowing to his opponent, removed his kote and men, and waved to them with a wide grin on his face.

It was Karai. Sakura smiled in recognition, and both she and Tsuki waved back enthusiastically. Kakashi, she noticed, did not. In fact, he seemed to be a little bit annoyed by the attention. Karai grinned at the trio, removed the tenugui he wore atop his head, and mopped his brow and shook his curls out before carefully replacing his head gear and gloves. He bowed to his next partner and easily bested the man, advancing time after time to attack each permissible target.

"Why are they using those funny swords?"

"They're shinai, and the ones they were using before are bokken. Real swords are only used in iai, and even then they're not sharpened." Kakashi pulled Tsuki onto his lap before continuing in a whisper just loud enough for Sakura to pick up on. "It was a move the daimyou made to increase their power. Only mercenaries can carry sharpened swords, as they report directly to the daimyou. The kendo clubs are more of a cultural thing, although they serve up the occasional recruit."

"You forgot ninja. They use swords, don't they?"

"Yes, but they don't report to any daimyou. They're completely independent, and there's always been tension among the two groups as a result."

"But it results in a balance of power, right?"

"Correct." It was hard not to see the look of pride on Kakashi's face.

"I'd like to learn how to use a sword. A _real_ sword."

"Would you?" Kakashi chuckled as he helped the young boy off his lap, and Tsuki ran closer to the stage to get a better look. Sakura watched him carefully. It was easy to lose a child in a place such as this, crowded with both strangers and neighbors.

"Sakura?"

She turned towards Kakashi, only to be pulled into his arms.

_What is he doing? Is he going to… kiss me?_

She felt her lips crushed under his, and disturbingly, she felt her body respond immediately. Sakura leaned into the kiss and allowed Kakashi to wrap his arms more tightly around her. What's more, she didn't demur when she felt him attempt to deepen the kiss. Her lips opened slightly, and he took full advantage of the opportunity.

Finally, he released her, but not before whispering hoarsely in her ear, "You're my wife. Act like it."

She looked at him quizzically. What was he on about?

"Husbands and wives don't kiss like that," she hissed back. At least not in public. That kiss had been completely inappropriate, and she'd felt several pairs of eyes on them, even after the embrace had ended.

"Maybe _you_ never did, but let me assure you, it's completely normal." He wrapped his arm around her waist as he spoke, to make his murmuring more in character. Sakura smirked. Their impromptu audience probably thought that sweet nothings were the substance of their conversation.

"And how exactly would you know this?" Two could play at this game. She moved her face closer to his, and brushed her lips against his to punctuate her comment.

"Personal experience isn't everything, _darling_. I know what love looks like." He nuzzled her neck in a place she realized was most erogenous.

"Even though you've never experienced it." She curled her fingers in his unruly hair and sharply tugged on a lock, smiling sweetly as she did so.

"Precisely because I haven't experienced it. I'm more objective." She felt a light nip on her ear, and the gentle breeze of his breath against the nape of her neck. And his callused fingers on her…breast? Damn yukata. It made access a bit too easy.

"Ow!" _That_ was playing dirty. She yanked his hand from her chest and glared at him.

"Mom? Dad?"

"Tsuki!" The boy looked at them curiously, then shrugged. Apparently, the fact that his mother was blushing furiously was not a cause for concern. His eyes were locked on Kakashi. "I'm bored."

"We're going to the restroom. Save our seats." Kakashi lowered his voice to a whisper before continuing. "Wait five minutes, then join us at the north gate." He handed Sakura his backpack, before grabbing Tsuki's hand and exiting the row.

In three minutes they returned, and Sakura was confused for just a moment before realizing that the man and boy standing next to her weren't quite real. They looked like her so-called husband and son, but were slightly washed out, compared to the actual items. For one thing, this Tsuki was a little bit too quiet. And the Kakashi sitting next to her was actually interested in the act that had taken the stage. Sakura hurried down the row and to the restroom, as a taiko drummer troupe began their act. This was easier said than done, however, and she apologized repeatedly to the other spectators in the row as she stumbled around and over them. Even a summer kimono was quite unwieldy, and the shoes ridiculous. Was she really supposed to surveil in a kimono?

She needn't have worried. Kakashi, as usual, had thought ahead. Once ensconced in the relative privacy of a bathroom stall, she noticed that besides an assortment of hand weapons, Kakashi had thoughtfully packed a short skirt, t-shirt, and flat-heeled shoes for her. She quickly changed and hurried after her teammates, but not before cloning herself. This facsimile was dressed as she had been earlier, and Sakura was surprised to see how nice she looked. She smiled at her other self. She certainly wasn't a beauty, but she did have her moments.

* * *

_**Author's note—**_

I've struggled for most of the past week about whether or not to continue with fan fiction—writing it, that is. Recently, I received an email (apparently it was a mistake to post my address and other semi-personal info on the site) that wasn't a criticism of my work but an attack on me. It was filled with vitriol, and it surprised and upset me. It's one thing for someone to post criticism of my work. The truth is, I welcome that—it's a big part of why I've been posting here, and I wish that more people would be critical—constructively, that is. But it is another thing for someone to attack and revile me because of the relationship I'm writing about. If you can't stomach the idea of a legal age Sakura dating a thirty-something Kakashi, you obviously haven't been out in the real world much. A twelve-year difference isn't much among adults. And apart from that, no one is forcing you to read. Certainly you're entitled to your opinion, but don't attack me personally because mine is different than yours. Pick any country around the world and you'll find that such a relationship would be considered legal. Please deal with it. Cope. Learn some tolerance.

Anyway, the email I received was (obviously) hurtful. Beyond that, it precipitated a chain reaction in my thinking. So for the past week, instead of writing, I've been considering the reasons why I post here, and wondering if they are valid. The biggest reason why I post is because a number of people seem to enjoy reading my stories. It's nice to know that I'm doing something to bring people pleasure. It really makes me happy. So, in part, it's fair to say that I'm writing this for you. But another key reason that I've been posting here is to see if I have enough talent to make it as an author. I haven't shared this with many people, because I have a lot of doubts about it, but what the hell. I have a novel already planned out, but as I've never studied creative writing, I don't think I'm ready to proceed with it. I know that a wish and a prayer to become a published author are not enough. It takes skill and finesse I don't have. Yet. I was hoping that I would grow by posting here, based on feedback from you all. I started writing less than two years ago, and everything (!) I've written is posted here. I think I have shown some improvement, but I don't think it's enough. At times, I feel like I'm writing into a vacuum. I know my work has problems, but I haven't gotten much specific feedback about what they are and how to fix them, so the problems remain. So I've been wondering: is continuing to make the same unidentified mistakes an exercise in futility, or even worse, a sure-fire method to cement bad habits? Is it a bad idea to keep posting?

Here is what I've decided. I think I've been going about this all wrong. It's a lot to ask someone to take the time to write a thoughtful critique of ones work. When I read other people's stories I often have trouble even finding the words to explain my response, whether it's positive or negative. I've realized I'm thrilled when people respond to my work, no matter how terse the response. Even a one word review makes my day. So I think I need to get my detailed criticism elsewhere. I've come up with two strategies: (a) take a creative writing class—where feedback would be an essential part of the process. That wouldn't leave a lot of time for writing fan fiction, considering I already have a full time job and a family to take care of. (b) Find a beta—someone who would be willing to take the time to help me improve in targeted areas. Frankly, I'd rather go with (b). I want to finish this story! (And I'm not sure I can afford to take a class right now.) So, if any one of you is willing to beta for me, I'd be in your debt. I think I'm okay with spelling, grammar, etc. But if you read my writing and something jumps out again and again as needing fixing I would appreciate your help. I recognize that it's a lot of work to beta. So, if you like, I'll make you a temari ball, do some sashiko for you, or send you a Naruto gashapon as thanks. Let me know (via PM) and thanks for reading, no matter what.


	19. Chapter 19 Search and Rescue

A Book of Five Rings

A Book of Five Rings

Chapter 19 – Search… and Rescue.

_Author's note: I apologize for taking an entire month to write this chapter, but it's been an overwhelming month. I didn't expect that so many people would review and send messages of support, and I didn't expect that so many of you would volunteer to beta. Your words of encouragement outweigh any accusations of perverted, felonious behavior by at least 100-fold. I spent a good portion of the month replying to PMs and reviews (instead of writing), because each deserves at least that. I am nowhere near finished, however. Soon! I think that when you read this chapter, you will see that it is of much higher quality than the previous ones. I can't take credit for that, of course. Talent greater than mine has been at work here. I am learning, however, and that is a good thing. There is no way I am going to stop writing, as long as that is occurring. Thank you all so much!_

Chapter 19 – Search… and Rescue.

"Looks like a silo." Sakura frowned in Kakashi's direction after scanning the exterior of the cylindrical, cob-walled structure before her, then frowned more deeply as she noticed its inconsistencies. It was tile-roofed, which was unusual for the buildings in this village, and even, she saw, for the buildings in the compound. It was important to keep a grain silo's contents dry—but a thatch or tin roof generally sufficed. There were no windows or inlets under the eaves, she saw as she quickly walked its perimeter. A grain silo needed some type of ventilation to prevent its contents from molding. At least the ones in Fire and Waterfall did. But this one stood sealed tight like a tin of saury. Still, it did its intended job. "Pretty clever," she grudgingly admitted as she returned to Kakashi's side. "It looks enough like a silo to fool you at first glance."

Kakashi shrugged. "Too many people have been coming and going from it."

The compound was almost empty, as Kakashi had predicted. The gate guard's rounds lasted exactly twenty minutes—they'd timed two full cycles before hopping the wall and body-flickering to the safety of the deep shadows cast by the barn adjacent to their target.

"Which jutsu will we use?"

Kakashi laughed, softly, given the nature of their immediate mission, and quietly addressed her son. "We can't. Right now we're not ninja, remember?" He pulled a thin, flexible metal rod from his sleeve and handed it to his young student. "Care to give it a go?" Tsuki eagerly took on the task of picking the door's deadbolt lock. Sakura was surprised to note how quickly he got the job done, given only minor suggestions from his sensei.

In a moment, all three were inside the building. The space was black as pitch once the door was shut again. It was cool too, which was to be expected, given that the mud and straw walls were a good half meter wide. But it wasn't until Kakashi illuminated the area that Sakura recognized the smell that invaded her nostrils. It was machine oil. Whatever was within the many crates contained here had been coated with the substance.

'_You've been away from things for too long, haven't you?'_

How could she have forgotten the smell of the oil that she'd once regularly used to hone and protect her tools? She approached a large wooden box, and saw that its lid already had been pried open. It was filled with kapok and kunai—large, sturdy blades with impressive heft. Sakura held one in her hand while running her thumb down its sharpened edge. These were honed more finely than the ones she was used to. It wasn't possible to sharpen normal kunai to this degree—the steel was too soft.

"Well?" Kakashi's voice was a whisper, as he moved beside her and held his flashlight aloft, its light glinting off the razor sharp edges of the weapons. "Do they look familiar?"

"One way to find out." Sakura grasped the kunai tightly, mindless of the wound it would leave, and with a rapid exhalation of breath and precise application of chakra, crushed it. Small, sharp fragments scattered to the floor. "Give me one of yours."

Kakashi complied, and she repeated the test. This time the metal crumbled as well, but these fragments were larger and slightly bent along their edges. This metal was obviously softer and more malleable. A Konoha kunai or shuriken would never shatter upon entry. Sakura thought back to the shinobi she'd healed back in the hidden village. She'd pulled shard after tiny shard from his leg—fragments that looked remarkably like those she'd produced moments before.

She sighed. "They're the ones." She squatted to retrieve the fragments. "But certainly no one here is making these."

How could there be? There was no foundry or forge in the village, and they would have noticed the glow of any fire in the surrounding hills. It was no easy task to smelt and smith iron. Typically, whole villages were involved in its production, as the extremely hot fires needed to melt the ore were maintained at full blast for days at a time. Residents put aside their work from the time each new kiln was built until the molten iron was broken free from its temporary clay home. Every villager, regardless of age, would be involved in finding fuel for the fire, feeding the blaze's voracious appetite, or in sundry other tasks. But this village did not seem to be set up for such a large-scale shift in jobs.

This was no ordinary, village-produced iron, either—this alloy had unique properties. It was sharper when honed, and more brittle when broken, producing tools that were at least twice as deadly as the normal implements of the ninja trade. These kunai would cut more deeply on the way in, and would continue to tear flesh once they shattered into thousands of pieces. They were a medic's nightmare realized. Sakura couldn't suppress the shudder she felt as she considered the type of person who would see this innovation as a military advancement.

"This is a trading post, I'd guess. Or some kind of cache." Kakashi handed her a bandanna. "You're dripping." Sakura quickly wrapped the cloth around her hand and pressed firmly to arrest the bleeding. She wouldn't spare the energy to mend it right now—one rarely did in the midst of a mission.

"Should we check the rest?" Tsuki sounded like a boy eager to open his birthday presents.

"Let me show you how to pry the lids up without leaving marks." Kakashi grabbed another kunai from his pack and joined his student on the other side of the large, cylindrical room. "Insert all of the flat edge—like that, so it doesn't cut into the wood. Now the opposite side. That's right. Bit by bit. We've got plenty of time."

Sakura looked on as the pair worked under the golden pool of light cast by the senior ninja's flashlight. Kakashi's teaching methods had certainly changed in the intervening years. He was doing more than demonstrating and standing back to let his student sink or swim—he was actually coaching this student. Even more oddly, he was giving praise. Tsuki's smile of gratification was mirrored by his teacher's as they lifted up the lid, and peered inside.

"Shuriken," her son announced in his clear, high-pitched voice.

"Someone's coming." Sakura heard the creaking of wooden wheels first, then the synchronized clip-clop of a team of horses.

"Let's get this lid back in place. Sakura—"

"I'm on it." She replaced the cover on the crate she'd inspected, then hopped from box to box and up into the rudimentary attic of the building. It could barely be called that, as it lacked a floor or even rafters. The conical roof, though topped with tile, was made of the same mud and straw components as the wall below. She doubted a tornado or even an earthquake could topple the structure. It made a perfect armory. Of course, this was undoubtedly by design.

Sakura and her teammates hunched securely against the sloping, curved roof, pressing chakra through their hands in a variation of the tree-walking exercise. Tsuki was still smiling, she guessed. Although she couldn't see him in the now darkened room, he'd emitted the small squeak of delight she'd recognize anywhere.

She heard the mechanical click of a lock opening, followed by a wedge of light as the door opened and a trio of men entered. One stalked decisively to the box Sakura had examined and tossed its lid aside.

"There are seven hundred here, and another three hundred are set to arrive next week. Take a look, if you like. Kenzo?" Sakura recognized the voice, and any doubt she may have had was erased, as the third member of the group moved a lantern to better illuminate the goods. The speaker, fully lit by the lamp's glare, was revealed to be none other than her hypochondriac patient.

A man dressed in a Grass-style yukata peered into the box, and lifted a kunai into the light to inspect it closely. He wasn't from the village. His gait was different—it was that of a shinobi, not a civilian. Not a Grass ninja, Sakura realized—they were known for their tall, thin builds and extreme, reed-like flexibility. This man, though light on his feet, was compact and muscle-bound. Even in flowing robes this was evident. He looked like a master blacksmith.

Now that she thought about it, there had been a number of similarly built men in the bazaar-like marketplace of the festival. What had they been selling? She racked her brain. Gemstones and jewelry. But hadn't the signs at their stalls advertised them as coming from Wind? Why would they need to lie? Earth had no quarrels with Grass, that she knew of, anyway.

"What were the results of the impact testing? Did you use bodies this time?" The client's voice interrupted her thoughts, though it perfectly matched Sakura's expectations. It was deep and heavy with testosterone, and while authoritative, it verged on cruel.

"Yes, on swine. The results were as specified—full penetration with ancillary damage on breakup." Karai sounded bored, Sakura realized. This must be one of the many errands and odd jobs Izumi made him do.

"We'll take them," the man almost growled. "But what we really want is the method. Our village has a long history of weapon making—"

"Shall we finish up inside the main house? Kenzo, you can load these two boxes into the bottom of the wagon. Get some of Iwazaki's men to help you." Karai swung the lamp around as he moved forward to join the client, but paused as the moving pool of light illuminated a dark spot on the floor. Sakura craned her neck to better see the ground meters below her and cringed as she realized the source of Karai's concern.

'_Shit_.'

"Kenzo, have you been reading in here again?"

His subordinate nodded, embarrassment evident in his posture, and Karai laughed.

"Next time, bring some tissues—no one wants to see your blood on the floor." Karai turned to his client conspiratorially. "He's addicted to books of a certain nature, you know? _Icha, Icha_ something or other. Too lazy to get a date, I guess. Speaking of which…" He ushered his client from the building as they continued their conversation in out of earshot.

Sakura restrained herself from laughing aloud, and turned to Kakashi to gauge his reaction. But he didn't look at all embarrassed to hear his favorite novel so denigrated. On the contrary, he seemed almost hopeful. '_About what?_' she wondered.

* * *

"You should change before we reenter the village. We'll disperse the shadow clones once we get closer." Kakashi said as he tossed his pack to Sakura. He motioned for Tsuki to join him on a flat rock not far from where they stood, so that their backs would be facing Sakura and their fronts toward the road. The path from the compound to the walled-in village was deserted and dark under the dim crescent moon, but Kakashi was taking no chances.

She was quick, as she always had been. He had to laugh, though, when she rejoined him, obi askew and yukata wrinkled.

"You look like you've been, er, busy." He reached down to tug sharply on her robe, then wrapped his arms around her to untie and resecure the simple knot of her belt. He felt the warmth of her body against his, and smiled to himself as she leaned slightly against him. That didn't last long,however. Almost as soon as her body touched his, she stiffened, like a cat noticing a dog. She didn't react even when he brushed his hands against her breast, or grazed the upper curve of her rump. All this was by accident, of course. He frowned. Her imitation of a mannequin was impeccable, apart from the pulse and body heat. And if there was anything she could have done to control _them_, she probably would have. The tension in her body was palpable, akin to that of a cat held tightly by a child. Kakashi sighed audibly. The wakeful Sakura was so different from the kitten-like model that curled against him each night. Her conscious self had a lot to learn from the nocturnal version, it seemed.

Sakura waited until Tsuki had run ahead before responding to his attentions with a gentle push and reproving glare. "You're not going to grope me again, are you? Or stick your tongue down my throat?"

He chuckled as he secured his hands on her obi to prevent her from moving away. "It seemed to me that you liked that." It was clear, however, that the difference in their height was now bothering her. She refused to look up at him, instead trying her best to pull away.

"I was staying in character."

"So was I."

"It was completely unnecessary."

Kakashi dropped his hands in mild frustration and walked in the direction Tsuki had taken. She kept pace, however. This pleased him, despite the tirade that he knew was about to occur. He couldn't help it: he found himself egging her on.

"You know, Sakura, it's hard to believe you were married." Something flashed across her face, but he couldn't decipher it.

"Not everyone's an exhibitionist. Most married couples show their affection more discreetly."

"Most married couples have non-existent sex lives."

"How would you know?"

He smirked. "I have married friends." He'd also been with a considerable number of very unhappy wives.

"Your cynicism is appalling."

Kakashi grabbed her shoulder and spun her toward him. "We're supposed to be in love, Sakura. Grow up, and do your job." As she pulled away from him, he saw her clench her fists. With a practiced effort, she uncurled them, but not before giving him a deadly glare. He nearly sniggered. It was so easy to press her buttons. Any mention of immaturity worked like a charm, as did the even the slightest hint of shirking one's responsibility. He realized he liked the angry Sakura much better than the calm, happy one she'd been of late.

"Holding hands should be enough." Such an adorable pout. It looked good on Tsuki, but on Sakura… it was priceless. It certainly wasn't worth sharing with an idiot like that Karai.

"I disagree. Someone was looking at you inappropriately. I wanted to nip it in the bud."

"Who? Nip what in the bud?"

"Karai." Kakashi began to walk away, but Sakura hurried after him, unwieldy sandals clacking.

"Karai. Karai? You've got to be kidding. Why on earth would you think that Karai was looking at me inappropriately?"

Kakashi shrugged. "Because he was."

"He's had nothing but good things to say about you, and he's never once done or said anything that could be construed—"

"He's not what you think he is."

"He's not what _you_ think he is."

"Is there an echo?" Kakashi grinned as he slowed his walk slightly. "Tsuki, stay where we can see you."

"Yes, Dad!"

"Just because you're an opportunistic bottom feeder doesn't mean that every man is."

"I'm a…catfish? First time I've been called that. No whiskers." He rubbed his chin. "Though maybe…"

"I was thinking more of slime."

"That's pretty low, Sakura. At the very least, I'm multicellular."

She clicked her tongue in frustration. "Don't try to make light of this. It's obvious you're projecting your own perverted tastes onto him. Karai is a _nice_ person. He's genuine and funny, and _educated_. And he's innocent in all this, or at least less guilty than his sister. She's the mastermind. Everything he's mentioned to me supports this."

"Everything he's mentioned to you in your daily chats? Doesn't it strike you as odd that he has the time to visit you every morning? Haven't you wondered what his objective is? Besides, he was the one dealing in weapons tonight."

Kakashi noted that Sakura was blushing. It was hard to tell in the minimal moon light, but he could feel the heat radiating from her. "Are you saying that Izumi is second in command? Haven't you noticed how lazy Karai is? There's no way—"

"No, Izumi is definitely the boss, but I think you're underestimating your little golden boy."

"Not everyone is as cynical as you. He's been sick, and he's needed treatment."

Kakashi looked at her, after making sure his face carried as little expression as possible. "He talks about you."

"What?"

"At the compound. Never while I'm around, but it's gotten back to me."

"What's gotten back to you?"

"Just bits and pieces."

"Such as?"

Kakashi paused. It wasn't like him to lie, but something about Karai really bothered him, apart from the fact that he was a weapons dealer, of course. Kakashi knew men, and he related to something base that he saw in Karai—the willingness to use women, he guessed. He hadn't heard Karai talking about Sakura, or even been told of this second hand. But he _had_ heard Karai talking about his conquests when the man didn't realize Kakashi was around.

Karai was every bit the womanizer, a virtuoso of the one-night stand. At least that's what his stories suggested. What's more, his area of interest appeared to be married women, apparently due to the thrill of cuckolding their husbands. While Kakashi was equally guilty of consorting with such women, it was never out of a crass desire to hurt their spouses. It was just that married girls had fewer expectations. He sighed. It was obvious that Karai was bad news.

"You don't want to hear it."

"_You_ brought it up." Anger flickered across her eyes as she slammed her open hand against his chest. "Spill it."

"He said he wants to bang you, Sakura." Kakashi looked at her unblinkingly as he did his best to hide the fact that she'd pushed almost every last bit of air from his lungs. "That's what I heard, anyway."

She flushed cerise, and Kakashi suppressed a smile. He was in the clear—he knew she wouldn't mention this to Karai. Better still, she'd probably avoid him from now on. That was for the best, of course. It wouldn't do to have Sakura seduced by their target. Not only would it compromise the mission, but he didn't think he'd be able to stand it.

"Mom! Dad! Someone's coming!" Tsuki sprinted back to their side, excitement on his face.

Kakashi grasped Sakura's hand, and felt it tense immediately. She definitely wasn't the forgiving type. Of course, he already knew that. He wondered how many days it would take for her to calm down. He looked around them quickly and frowned. This road's sole destination was the daimyou's compound. It wouldn't do to be seen returning from it. The tall grass by the side of the road would have to serve as a hiding place. He grabbed his son's hand and pulled the two of them into the sharp-edged foliage, thankful that they did their best not to trample it.

It was two men he worked with, or more precisely, who worked for Izumi. He didn't interact much with the other workers at the compound, as Izumi kept him sequestered and assigned to one man projects. He'd considered this pair mere flunkies until now, but as they approached, their conversation suggested otherwise.

"We can expect a promotion for this."

"Idiot! If you go in with that attitude, it'll only piss her off. It needs to be her idea—you know how she is."

"Vindictive?"

"Yeah. And worse. Remember Kenji? And that kid?"

"Takeo? "

"Remember how long they lasted?" The man stopped walking and set his pack on the ground, then crouched to unbuckle his sandal.

"Yeah, but they were on her personal staff. I don't know about the kid, but it was obvious that Kenji didn't… satisfy her." The men guffawed. "That's not something we have to worry about."

"Let me handle this. We'll just show her what we found, and let her draw her own conclusions."

"It's obvious, isn't it? Her dear Musashi isn't quite what we all thought he was."

Kakashi's eyebrow quirked, and he noticed both Sakura and Tsuki had stopped breathing. They were both as eager as he to hear the rest of this conversation.

"He changed his name. Big deal. Give me some of that water." The trio in the bushes collectively, though quietly exhaled. Apparently only their secondary cover—the expendable one—had been blown. Things were still going to according to plan.

"You know how Izumi feels about lying. She'll lay some kind of trap for him." The men continued on their way. As Kakashi, Sakura and Tsuki waited patiently for the chance to move out, the senior ninja was sure he saw a smirk flicker across his kohai's face.

"I wonder how her last assistant didn't satisfy her." Sakura erupted into giggles and Tsuki followed suit, though it was obvious he didn't know why he was laughing.

"I'm glad you think it's funny." The three returned to the road and walked briskly into towards the village. When they reached a turn in the road, the lights of the fair glimmered and beckoned in the distance. Though it was late, the event didn't seem to be wrapping up for the evening. Tsuki ran off again, heedless of Sakura's warning to stay close.

"I think it's more than funny. I think you've transplanted Izumi's personality onto Karai. She's obviously the sex maniac, not him." Sakura giggled again. "You're the one who's going to need to be careful. She's probably a dominatrix." She stopped walking for a moment as did Kakashi, though for a very different reason. An image of Sakura had entered his mind—a Sakura wearing a black leather halter, a metal-studded collar, and holding a crop between painted, cherry red lips. He was having the worst time shaking the frighteningly vivid image. When he finally succeeded, he realized the more conservatively dressed, real Sakura was still talking. "I'm assuming that married means that you won't commit adultery, of course."

"Ah. I wouldn't think of it."

"Right."

"A job's a job, Sakura. Do you really think I can't keep it in my pants for a few months?"

"Have you ever?"

"Well…" This was embarrassing. The fact that he had to stop and think about it suggested that the answer was no. "Actually, when it's come down to a mission, I _have_. But off duty, no." There had never been a reason to do so.

She shrugged. Apparently he'd met her rather low expectations for him.

"I saw you checking out your friends earlier in the beer garden. It's okay with me if you want to spend some time with them. Our burglars are obviously gone—I don't think there's a safety issue about returning to the apartment. Do you?"

She had _very_ low expectations for him. She'd just given him permission to drink, apparently assuming he'd sneak off otherwise to do so. Or maybe she was so annoyed with him that she merely wanted to be rid of him for a while. But a beer did sound good on a warm evening like this, and he hadn't had a drink in days.

"Okay. It's business, though, Sakura. They acted strangely when they saw us and I want to find out why."

She nodded, her face blank, then grabbed his backpack before hurrying on to catch up with Tsuki, who was nearly at the village gates.

Kakashi found the fenced-off drinking area without a problem. Unsurprisingly, his former companions in unemployment were still there, making their way through what looked like their tenth beer apiece, if the empty bottles on the table were any indication.

"Miyamoto-san! Join us!" That was Kawagawa, the loudest of the crew, and apparently the most inebriated. The standoffishness he'd felt earlier from the group had dissipated, it seemed, in a flood of alcohol. Kakashi easily hopped over the tightly woven bamboo fence and pulled a free chair up to the bottle-covered table.

The outdoor room seemed to match the current state of his friends. The grass, trodden by hundreds of feet oozed brown underfoot, sending up an earthy, beery scent. The undernote of vomit that hung in the air was a pungent reminder that many patrons had probably been here all day. Certainly these had.

Kakashi casually surveyed the group he'd joined. All were beyond sloshed, and well on the way to hammered, it seemed. A few had the unfocused, half-closed eyes of someone about to black out.

He was getting a different read from Kawagawa, however. Despite his seemingly friendly invitation, the man seemed irritated, in the passive-aggressive manner of an ugly drunk. Kakashi sighed inwardly. He had no intention of becoming involved in a fight. Sakura would _not_ understand, and apart from that, it would be difficult to play the part of a typical, civilian brawler. Reflexes and long-memorized routines had a habit of kicking into gear no matter how hard one tried to suppress them.

"Bitch keeping you busy?" Kakashi raised an eyebrow at the man's rather harsh words, as he waved his hand unobtrusively. The smell of shochu mixed with beer chasers was quite unpleasant, on this end, anyway. Why would Kanagawa refer to Sakura that way? Had he met her, or did he talk like that about all women? Kakashi thought back to the other conversations he'd had with the man, drunk and sober. He seemed different tonight. Riled up.

"Izumi-hime," Tanaka, a small but sturdily built man offered by way of explanation. "Kawagawa here doesn't think much of her."

"Oh?" Kakashi did his best to act only mildly curious. He motioned to the barkeep, who came quickly with a beer, though he neglected to take the others away. Kakashi grasped the bottle between his knees after taking a long swig of the ice-cold beverage. Nothing quenched ones thirst like a beer. "Why's that?" he asked, finally.

"She has a reputation. We would have told you, but, hey, we didn't see you." Kawagawa seemed to be simmering with anger, as though Kakashi had committed some great transgression in taking up her offer of work.

What Kawagawa means is that—" Tanaka lowered his voice as he draped his arm around the ninja, "people who work for her have a habit of, um, disappearing. Be careful, man." He nodded his head wisely, eyes half-closed in a familiar alcoholic stupor.

"She's not the daimyou's cousin. She says she is, but…" Kawagawa looked into his beer as he spoke, as though plumbing its depths for the answer to an unasked question. "…Takeo told me."

"Takeo?" Kakashi said quietly. This was the second time tonight he'd heard that name. Kawagawa cast a pained look at the group before upending his chair and stumbling toward the line of portable johns just outside of the drinking pavilion.

"Kanagawa's brother. He went to work for Izumi-sama when she and her brother arrived a year ago." Tanaka giggled. "He was hot for her, wasn't he, Kanagawa?" Thankfully, the recipient of this intended insult didn't hear, and the fight that would have resulted was averted.

"He was only seventeen and promised to my niece," Okazaki broke in. The oldest man of the group had a habit of embellishing, Kakashi knew, but none of his companions attempted to correct what came next. He seemed to be one of the rare types who became more serious when drunk, but not lachrymose. "About a month after he started working at the compound, my niece received a letter. He was too embarrassed to break it off in person. She was crushed, of course. But who could blame him? A young kid has no hope if a hot older woman goes for him. When I was a kid—"

"Okazaki, no one wants to imagine your scrawny ass having sex." The men at the table laughed raucously.

"Was sex even around when you were a kid?"

"Yeah, but not birth control. That explains Okazaki's existence!" Tanaka laughed heartily at his own joke.

"Your mom told me she's not too fond of them either." The man turned toward Kakashi as he dug something foreign from his hairy, aged ear. "Kids. They think they invented sex, you know?"

Kakashi sighed. This was certainly a milestone. He'd now been relegated to the over-the-hill set. Sometimes he hated his hair.

"Well, Takeo seemed to change after that. He'd always been an open, honest kid, but he started acting secretive. Kawagawa told me this. He said his younger brother seemed worried about something—almost desperate. We saw less and less of him—once he'd been a drinking buddy of ours—but now he'd leave the village for days at a time. Then Noemi—"

"His niece," the butt of Okazaki's earlier joke offered helpfully.

"My niece received another letter from him. He apologized to her, and said he'd shamed both of their families. The only way out of it, he said, was for him to leave the village permanently. None of us have heard a word from him since, and obviously we can't afford to hire a detective."

"None of you are willing to work for those two, are you?" That would explain their near constant state of unemployment. The daimyou owned almost all of the land in the village and its environs, and many of the businesses.

"Kawagawa and his family were blackballed. He made accusations when his brother disappeared, and the daimyou didn't like it. They're lucky to be in the village, really. The rest of us… Well, some of us are scared of those two. And the rest of us, well, we stand with Kawagawa, really. Takeo's disappearance doesn't make sense. Something's going on up there." He laughed wryly. "Not that people like us can do anything about it."

"Look at that bijin!" A man, whose name escaped Kakashi, cast a leering glance over the ninja's shoulder.

"She's smoking."

"I'd like to hit that." Tanaka's alcohol-dazed eyes opened wider than they'd probably been all evening.

"Check the way she swings her hips. Like she really wants it."

"Nice jiggle, too. Think they're real?"

"Man, I'd really love to get a piece of—"

"That's my _wife_." Kakashi said this quietly, but in a voice authoritative enough to silence the cat calls emanating from the table. He surveyed the woman now standing behind the low fence. She was everything the immature group at the table had said. She was gorgeous, no, _sexy_, though it was obvious she hadn't put much thought into her appearance. Her hair was tousled, her eyes wide with emotion as she searched the crowd for him. The oversized t-shirt she'd thrown on rumpled and half-sliding from her shoulders. She'd rushed here, he realized. Then he smiled. Wasn't that his undershirt? Her cheeks were flushed, her breath slightly faster than normal. He smiled briefly as he saw her, for once, through others' eyes. She resembled every man's fantasy of the maiden pursued.

A sharp glare from the copy ninja quieted the second round of cat calls. These were prompted by his long-legged wife leaning over, hiding her perfect face from view, but displaying prominently to the gathered drinkers her round, firm, equally sublime derriere. Her skirt rose dangerously high on her thighs as she stretched, and Kakashi felt a sudden rush of blood to his groin. She straightened up, lifting the heretofore unseen Tsuki to her hip as she did so, and Kakashi felt another rush of blood, this time to his face. The boy clung to her, his face hidden in the loose, knit fabric of the shirt. She had been comforting him. It was obvious, now. This while he and the other Neanderthals in this place had been imagining the quickest way to get her alone. A novel feeling of shame drifted to the forefront of his consciousness, yet the feeling of arousal did not abate.

"How old is she, Miyamoto? Fifteen?"

"No. Not fifteen. She's an adult, like me. And I'm not as old as you think I am." Kakashi sighed peevishly as he pushed back his chair.

"Who knew he was a pervert? So Lolicon's your thing, huh, Miyamoto?" A chorus of sniggers exploded around him.

"Shut up, Tanaka. I'd do her in a minute."

"Think the carpet matches the drapes?" That last comment was worth a black eye or two. Kakashi resisted the temptation, however, as he pushed his way through the pavilion. He'd set them straight later, when he was calm, and when Sakura wasn't around to watch. Maybe a simple broken arm during an "impromptu" game of arm wrestling would be enough. Or a stomp to the foot with a warning smile. Granted, beating each of them to a pulp would be more effective (and much more satisfying), but it wouldn't be wise do too much damage, particularly as Sakura would most likely be the person called upon to fix it.

"Definitely a MILF."

"Milf? What's that?"

"'Mother I'd like to—'"

"Sakura?" It was a relief to leave the pestering inanities behind. Kakashi gathered his partner and son into a clumsy, three-way embrace. He brushed his lips along Sakura's cheek, in an intimate and hopefully, familial, gesture. Thankfully, she didn't recoil. Apart from the jeopardy that might cause to their cover, he wasn't sure if he could ignore another round of jibes from Okazaki, Tanaka, and company.

Tsuki jumped into his arms and Kakashi immediately forgot his own concerns. "Susu's gone."

"Susu?" Kakashi pushed the portable fence aside and walked quickly away from the pavilion, son in arms and wife in close proximity.

* * *

"Everything looked fine when we got home. The door seal was broken, of course, and the book had been opened, but they did a really good job hiding their tracks, otherwise." Kakashi was leading them out of the downtown area, she noticed, away from the crowds and lights of the festival. That made sense. A cat would have to be crazy to wander willingly into that hubbub.

"How good?"

"Civilian good. They cleaned up after themselves, but the scene wasn't immaculate. Susuwatari must have slipped out at some point."

"What if he's gone?" Her son's voice was a whimper.

"He's not gone, Tsuki. We'll do our best to find him." Sakura ran her fingers through the boy's tousled silver spikes as she spoke.

"What would you do if you were a cat?" Kakashi smiled reassuringly at the boy, and Sakura was reminded of a day, years before on the hospital roof, when her sensei's face had been lit with an equally reassuring smile. Had he really thought, then, that the boys would fix things up? Or was his expression now a false one? It didn't matter, she decided. It was obvious that he cared deeply for her son.

"I'd go hunting, maybe. Or maybe I'd look for a friend."

"Maybe he's scared, Tsuki. The fireworks, the crowds, the music."

"Poor Susu." Her son's face suddenly lit up. "Can you track him? Mom said you have a phenomenal sense of smell!"

Kakashi smiled ruefully. "There are thousands of people here. And livestock. This is nothing like tracking down a person in the woods." He paused. "But Pakkun…let's find out." He pulled the pair into an alley, then patted his pocket, apparently in search of the kunai she'd destroyed earlier that evening. She smirked. Stupid. Where was that civilian knife he'd shown off recently? After casting the faintest dirty look Sakura's way, Kakashi bit his thumb and streaked his blood against the ground. Moments later, a groggy-looking pug stood before him, a growl upon his whiskered lips.

"This had better be good." Pakkun looked slowly from Kakashi, to Sakura and then to Tsuki. "I see you haven't driven the family away. Good boy." His voice had softened slightly from its immediate gruffness, Sakura noticed.

She smiled as Kakashi's eyebrow quirked in irritation. "We need your help—"

"I gathered as much."

"—to find a cat."

"A cat? You woke me up at this time of night to find a _cat_? You dragged me away from my wife and our children for a damn _feline_?"

"He's scared. And lonely."

It seemed the sight of the boy welling up in tears was enough to win over the recalcitrant ninken.

"Fine. Do you have anything that smells like him?" Tsuki approached, and Pakkun grimaced. "That's enough. I can smell the cat stink on you from here." He lifted his nose into the air, further wrinkling his amply-lined face, and took off.

"He's fast!" Tsuki yelled before chasing after the small dog.

"You don't think his cape will attract attention? Or the hitae-ate?"

"Nah. Anyone who's still awake is down at the fair getting drunk."

He was right, it seemed. The narrow streets in this part of the village were deserted, their uneven cobblestones silent except for the small noises made by the quartet as they traveled through the older part of town.

"Sorry to interrupt your evening this way."

He shrugged. "I got what I needed."

Sakura frowned. Did that mean he was physically addicted to alcohol? That he couldn't go for more than twenty four hours without the stuff? He must be worse off than she'd thought.

"It seems Izumi and company have quite a negative reputation in this village."

"Oh?" Had she jumped to conclusions again? Maybe this had been a fact finding mission for him, after all, just as he'd said it would be. He did smell of beer, though. Not of the stronger stuff, true, but sake was almost scentless, unlike that horrible shochu that many older ninja drank. She shuddered as she considered the effects of the rotgut so many people were willing to swill.

"There have been a couple of disappearances, and the level of trust is through the basement."

"What?"

"Izumi," Kakashi said. "They don't trust her. You're not even listening to me, are you?"

"Of course I am. Where's _your_ level of trust?"

"I trust you, Sakura."

"Hmm." That was patently false. It was clear that he didn't trust her around Karai. It wasn't worth arguing about, however. He probably didn't trust anyone.

They caught up with the ninken at the base of a shrine on the far, run-down end of the village.

"Up there." Without waiting for a response, Pakkun disappeared.

There were one hundred steps, at least, leading to the shrine. They were wide, as well, suggesting that at one time, large crowds must have worshipped here. That couldn't be true now, however. The steps were cracked, and clumps of grasses poked up in the crevices. The surrounding shrubbery had grown out of control, as well. The shrine was likely abandoned. Perhaps the resident deity had fallen out of favor.

Tsuki ran up the shallow steps, while she and Kakashi walked more slowly, taking in the lay of the land. Besides, it was late and she was in no mood for running. She had no idea why Kakashi hung back, of course, but perhaps he was more drunk than he was letting on. Not that it mattered. He didn't need her permission to poison his liver. That was his business, alone.

"Sakura—"

"I was joking about the trust thing, Kakashi. Really." She gave him a prefabricated smile before dashing up the stairs ahead of him.

"Mom! Dad! Found him!" It was pointless to yell back a reminder to be quiet. Sakura hurried instead up the remaining steps, to see her son standing perpendicular to one of the oversized supports of the torii, about two meters off the ground. The gate was old, she saw, and even in the minimal moon light it was obvious that it hadn't been painted in years. Only a few chips of what presumably was red paint appeared on its surface. It even looked slightly rotten in places.

"Tsuki! What did I tell you about tree-walking?"

"But he's up there. Look! He can't get down, and he's frightened. I have to rescue him." He continued to walk up the side of the massive gate and Sakura was sure she heard wood creaking and crumbling under his diminutive weight.

It was true that Susuwatari was shaking, and his eyes were wider than they usually were at night. But however scared the cat was, it was foolish for Tsuki to attempt rescue by tree walking: any witness to it could blow their cover sky high. And he knew better. He hadn't pulled a stunt like this in a good year or so.

"Tsuki—"

"Let me, Sakura. Tsuki, get down here right now." His voice had a tone she remembered well, one she'd never heard him use on her son. "Focus on our situation, not your emotions. _I'll_ get him." Kakashi easily shimmied up the facing support, then crawled onto the lintel Susu had chosen as his perch. "Easy, Susu. Damn it! You don't have to scratch!" He bundled the small cat into his shirt before jumping lightly to the ground, sporting fresh gashes on his arms.

"Susu!" Her son jumped with glee before grabbing the feline from Kakashi's arms, inflicting a few new scratches in the process. Sakura smiled. She couldn't help but notice the difference in the young cat's behavior once he was nestled in her son's arms. He was now purring, and so, for that matter, was Tsuki.

"Let's go!" Her son ran off, his energy apparently unexpended, despite the late hour.

"I'll need to disinfect those before I can heal them," Sakura murmured to Kakashi as the quartet headed back to the apartment, boy and cat some distance ahead of the adults. "Tsuki, stay close."

"Right, Mom!"

"That cat about shredded my arm. And my chest."

"Poor baby. One would hardly imagine you're in the bingo books of the five great nations. And countless others."

Kakashi laughed, and the two walked for a while in an unusual, companionable silence.

"You didn't have to do that, you know."

"Hmm?"

"Go after the cat. And rebuke Tsuki."

Kakashi shrugged. "I'm his sensei. I think that's within my job description."

"That's not what I meant. It would have been a lot easier to let me be the bad guy. He worships you, after all."

Kakashi grunted.

"You know, you're a much better sensei than you used to be." Less detached. More…fatherly? She shook her head vigorously. Where did _that_ come from?

"Coming from you, I'll consider that high praise."

"Huh?" She hoped he wouldn't turn to see her face. For a moment, she'd worried that she had voiced that last thought aloud. "Um, thanks for sticking up for me before, in the beer garden. You scared a couple of them, you know."

The copy ninja scratched the place on his head where the knot of his hitai-ate typically rested. He must miss it, Sakura realized. That and his other security blanket. He'd certainly dealt with a number of major lifestyle changes to ensure the success of this mission.

"Ah. You heard that."

"Some of it. It was nothing I hadn't heard before, though. If we weren't undercover, I would have pounded them. All of them. And the pavilion for good measure."

He chuckled. "I could see you doing that." He turned to Sakura, as though about to say something important. "Sakura…"

"Yes?"

"I meant to tell you this earlier. Izumi's sending me on a trip."


	20. Chapter 20 Sticks and Stones

A Book of Five Rings

_Author's note: I hope all the kendo details are accurate. My husband and son do the sport, and I've sat in on a lot of practices, so here's hoping I haven't mischaracterized anything._

_Also, to the person who has posted the entirety of_ Fourteen Dates _and_ Dirty Old Man _on another website without my permission and without credit: take it down immediately. It's not yours to post. And it wasn't a pleasant surprise to find out about it._

Chapter 20 – Sticks and Stones.

Sakura breathed deeply and counted to ten as she mustered her patience. There was nothing worse than a client who wasn't telling the whole truth. In this case it was a little worse, as the truth was quite evident. The problem was she couldn't confront him with it. The short, salt-and –pepper haired man sitting before her on the exam table was the man she'd seen the night before in the silo--the nosebleed guy. He'd stopped by today with a case of epistaxis that just wouldn't stop, but he claimed to have no idea how it had happened.

_Sure_, Sakura thought to herself as she packed another wad of damp cotton gauze up his nostril and handed him a bag of ice to hold over the bridge of his nose. _You have absolutely no idea. Just like the guy last week with the gerbil problem. Absolutely noooo idea._

"Tell me again how this happened."

"I really don't know. It's been bleeding since this morning." This was a translation, as currently his speech had been divested of the "t" sound.

"Did someone punch you in the face?" The man's eyes lit up for a minute, until Sakura continued, "Because your skin looks fine. With this much bleeding, I'd expect to see at least a good bruise, or maybe a broken nose. Or internal trauma. You haven't been picking it, have you?"

"No. Of course not." Sakura's patient lowered his shaggy eyebrows in a glower.

"I didn't think so. That's pretty repellent, don't you think?" The healer turned to the nearly empty chart she'd located for the man. He had a family, she saw. "_Six kids!_" was noted in Katayama-sensei's neat handwriting. It was hard to believe a man like this was married, let alone a father. He wasn't the most exemplary of his gender, to put it mildly. He must have other unseen attributes. A great personality, perhaps. Or maybe he was damn good in bed. Sakura eyed the considerable paunch hanging over the man's low-cut jeans. _Nah_, she decided. It couldn't be that. The man had nose-hair, for kami's sake—huge tufts of hair that had made him, as he walked into the office, look like he was wearing a narrow, bright red mustache. Had the man never been introduced to that wonder of technology known as the scissors?

"You're not using inhalants, are you?" The man shook his head. "Do you bruise easily? No? But this _has _happened before, hasn't it?" She nearly giggled as her mind flitted away briefly from the boredom of the interview. Perhaps this was why Kakashi had always worn a navy blue mask—to hide the evidence of epic nosebleeds. Her sempai's skin was fairly pale, after all. Maybe that was due to anemia.

Sakura struggled to regain her professionalism as she returned her focus to her patient. It had been a trying day and a trying week, and she'd really reached her limit, tolerance-wise. It would be so much easier if this patient would just come out and tell her that he got the nosebleed from reading pornography. What was so difficult about that? Patients bared all in front of their healer. Literally. Sakura had seen more boils, infections and cysts than she cared to remember, and more kinds of lesions and sores in private places than she'd ever imagined existed. She'd probed and prodded the most hidden of places and heard descriptions of personal habits that most people wouldn't confide to their closest friend, or even their spouse. Reading a porno novel was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to that. She took another deep breath. While she couldn't come right out and ask him if he was an _Icha, Icha_ addict, she might be able to get him to admit it by other means.

"I see you're a father. Wow. Lots of kids."

"Yeah." He seemed rather glum. "And another one on the way."

"So, how's the sex life?"

The man nearly turned purple, and the cloth in his nose quickly seeped red. Ooh. He was a shy one. She wouldn't have guessed that, given the number of progeny attributed to him.

"Um, well my wife's pretty big right now. Baby's due in another month."

"I see. And how are you dealing with it?"

"I read."

"Oh. Girly magazines?"

The man frowned. He seemed slightly humiliated by the suggestion, and offended, as well. His face was a caricature of the caught-red-handed teen—a heavy-browed, square-jawed teen, that is. "No. No. I have more taste than that. I read erotic literature."

"Erotic. Literature."

"Romance. The _Icha Icha _series. Have you heard of it? It's not dirty—it's art."

Sakura did her best to avoid rolling her eyes. Were Jiraiya's readers given talking points when they purchased the man's novels? A special bookmark, perhaps, with key phrases to use when defending this "art" from the easily offended masses? She was certain she'd heard those very words before.

The kunoichi gestured to her client to sit up. "You've probably heard this joke: A patient says to his healer, 'It hurts when I do this.' The healer says, 'So don't do that.'"

"You want me to give up the book?" A look of alarm passed across the man's face. "It took me months to get a hold of it. It's contraband here." _Contraband_? Funny. Just a minute ago he'd called it _art_.

"Do you want your nose to keep bleeding? It's obvious you've got a problem. I can treat your symptoms, but they'll return. The best way to cure it is to take care of the source." She paused for effect. When she spoke again, her voice was deliberately gentle. "You have it with you right now, don't you? How long do you think you'll be able to resist it?"

The man sighed before rummaging in his backpack to produce a small, violet-clad volume. Sakura did her best to hide the gleam of avarice in her eyes. "I'll throw it out for you, if you like." She picked up the volume gingerly, in a show of distaste, and placed it into the closest wastebasket. She then turned to her patient with a smile.

"You know, just because your wife's pregnant doesn't mean she's not looking for some attention. Maybe not regular intercourse—" The man's face turned purple again. "But cuddling, or even different kinds of sex. Have you talked to her about this?"

"No. She seems tired all the time. I didn't want to bother her."

"The urge to be intimate doesn't go away, just because someone is with child." It hadn't for her, at least. She'd thought about sex constantly while she carried Tsuki. She'd been so aroused at times, it had been embarrassing. "In fact, for lots of women it's the opposite. You should talk to her. You might be surprised."

There was no chance of that, Sakura realized. Her patient looked as though he wished he could sink through the floor. Or spontaneously combust.

"Looks like it's stopped. Keep the packing in for at least another hour, and wet it down before removing it. You don't want to disturb the scab."

The man climbed down from the exam table and headed for the door, but not before looking lingeringly at the wastebasket. "How much do I owe you?"

Sakura smiled brightly as she walked her patient to the entrance of the clinic. He'd already paid her plenty, although he didn't realize it. "This one's on me. Consider it an early birthday gift for your new baby. Your wife hasn't been by the clinic, has she?"

The man shook his head. "Can't really afford it. And after six kids, we figured that she kind of knows the ropes."

"Make sure she stops by. Parents always slack off after the first child—but a second, or even a seventh pregnancy can be dangerous."

Sakura stretched her neck and cracked her back after shutting and locking the front door to the clinic. Who would have thought that such a tiny village could have so many people needing medical care? She'd put in another twelve-hour day, even with the help of Sensei, who was doing much better of late. The "reiki" treatments seemed to be helping. Though she hadn't mentioned this to the older woman, Sakura could feel her teacher's bone knitting itself together each time she applied chakra. The elderly woman would be fully healed in only a few more weeks.

After a brief detour to the exam room, Sakura headed back to the stairs leading to her apartment. She wondered how she would let the woman know when she was ready to be back on her feet, sans crutches. Katayama-sensei knew that it typically took many months for elderly bones to heal. Most likely (and quite reasonably), she'd be reluctant to allow herself to return to full weight-bearing status so soon. Sakura sighed. It would be good to have the older practitioner fully on her feet. Even with the woman's part-time help, she was still overwhelmed. She had no idea how Katayama-sensei had handled the practice by herself.

Sakura's call of "I'm home," echoed in the front hall of the apartment. From the overall quiet and lack of rapid footsteps in her direction, Sakura inferred that the boys were out somewhere. That was good. Kakashi was probably breaking the news of his impending absence to the boy, hopefully after a full day of fooling around and teacher-student bonding. He'd mentioned something to her that morning about taking the day off to spend with Tsuki. Hopefully, Kakashi had taken full advantage of the free time.

Tsuki would be crushed, she knew, to learn that his teacher was leaving for a while. Of course, it was for the sake of the mission, and the sooner her son learned to accept such things, the easier his life as a ninja would become. Accepting loss was a key facet of their lives, after all. It was however, a key reason she'd objected to Tsuki leaving the academy so soon. A four-year old, even a gifted one, should have the luxury of a sheltered childhood—one where his parents made the world seem a slightly better place than it actually was. Life, with all its ugliness, should be revealed slowly.

Her life was a great example of this type of sheltering. Although she'd often acted naïvely as a result of her upbringing, she had no doubt her long-held innocence had contributed to the optimism she'd shown as a young shinobi and to her drive to persevere. Sasuke, of course, had experienced the exact opposite. He was the perfect example of the child thrown without preparation into the horrors life sometimes delivered. The death he'd been introduced to, no, _assaulted_ with, had warped him almost irreparably. It, too had shaped the person he'd become.

What did a four-year old ninja become, once mature? Could a child exposed to violence and death from such a young age grow up to be a normal, healthy person? Sakura considered Tsunade's words from weeks before. Kakashi was the best man for the job of training her son, she said, because he'd experienced it himself. Did that mean Tsuki was destined to turn out like Kakashi? Would her son end up an emotional cripple, a drunk, a prime example of the type of ninja that peaked too soon, and then burnt out? She fervently hoped not. The cards were certainly stacked in favor of such an outcome—half of Tsuki's genes were from Kakashi, after all. And it became clearer each day how much her son resembled his father, not only physically, but in his outlook and in a million other subtle ways. The way he smiled, creasing his eyes into perfect crescent-moons, the way he raised a single eyebrow when surprised or confused, his increasingly dry sense of humor, even the slight arrogance he demonstrated at times: all of these were Kakashi's traits. He was definitely his father's son.

And Kakashi really wasn't _that _bad. He didn't seem emotionally crippled around Tsuki, and even when Sakura had given him "permission" to drink, the man hadn't gotten plastered. That showed restraint—he wasn't totally owned by his addiction. And importantly, he was still the perfect shinobi when it came to missions: all business, all the time. She was being too hard on him, she realized, and by extension, on Tsuki too. She frowned. She promised herself she would start over. She needed to stop worrying. What was it that her mom had always said? "If you worry too much, you will bring your fears to fruition." She'd never really understood what her mother had meant. The statement had seemed almost superstitious, as though thinking too much could give life to demons. But now she got it. Her worries and the actions resulting from them could have an effect opposite to her intent.

She didn't want Tsuki to be the corrupted end result of a self- fulfilling prophecy.

Life was all about letting go. How many times had Yuki said this to her, along with "Sakura, you worry too much. Just…_be_. Let life happen once in a while. Sit back, and drink it in."

Sakura headed into the kitchen in search of a cold drink, her former husband's words ringing in her ears. A note, she saw, had been slapped on the fridge, and it was inscribed with Kakashi's barely legible writing. "River bank," was all she could make out with certainty, and possibly the kanji for "willow," and "supper." Or "handcuffs" and "prostitute." She decided to go with the first interpretation, though the latter seemed equally likely. She rolled her eyes as she crumpled up the note. Someone should have done a better job supervising Kakashi's kanji practice. His strokes were uneven, thick where they should be thin, curved where they should be straight, and blotched with extraneous marks. Even Tsuki had better penmanship than his teacher. Of course, that was due to Sakura's influence. Her genes were in there somewhere, after all.

The kunoichi headed for the bathroom and a quick shower to rinse off the lingering reminders of a day filled with intimate, though impersonal human contact. A quiet evening under the willows at the river's edge sounded perfect, she realized, and a picnic dinner prepared by someone other than herself would be… glorious. She smiled. Sometimes the man did surprise her.

* * *

"Are you ready to give it a try?"

"_Glumph_."

"Didn't your mother teach you to swallow your food before you speak?"

Tsuki responded with the typical "cart-wreck-in-a-tunnel" display Kakashi remembered from his own youth. Somehow, the sight of mashed-up food wasn't quite as amusing as he remembered. Of course, he'd been on the other end of it, back then.

"I really don't need to see it, Tsuki." He nearly said, "Act your age," but stopped himself just in time. The boy _was_ acting his age right now—something he very rarely did.

"Which one is for me?"

Kakashi tossed a cloth-wrapped implement to the younger ninja, then unfastened his own case to pull out a long, bamboo shinai.

"Yeah!" Tsuki immediately began to swing his shorter, faux sword in circles, yelling as he did so.

"Rule one." The sternness of Kakashi's voice immediately produced the intended result—Tsuki stopped swinging, and turned to face his sensei, eyes wide. "The shinai is a stand-in for a sword. But you are to treat it exactly like you would a real sword. Here," he ran Tsuki's finger along a nylon string that ran from the handle of the tool to close to its tip, "is the cutting surface. And here is the tip. Anything you touch with either surface is considered cut. No, don't do that." He took boy's shorter shinai into his own hands. "It's not a cane, and it's not a crutch. You wouldn't use a sword that way, would you? If you touch the tip to the ground you'll pick up dirt and pebbles, and you might fling them at your opponent." He brushed off the suede tip, then handed the shinai back to his student. "Treat your tools with respect, Tsuki. You already know this."

"Yes, sensei—um, Dad."

"Stick with 'Dad'. It's less confusing." He ruffled the boys silver hair, dappled grey by the shadows produced by the curtain of narrow leaves that surrounded them.

The boy broke into a sun-brilliant smile. "Yes, Dad. How's this?"

"Better." Kakashi picked up his own shinai. "Here's how you hold it when you're not at attention. Right. Like that. Fast learner, aren't you?" He smiled. "And here's how you hold it otherwise. Right hand here, with a fairly loose grip. Like you're holding an umbrella. Left hand as though you are holding an egg."

"An egg?"

"Raw egg. Not too tight, or you'll break the shell."

"Oh. Like this?"

"Great. Did you notice where the hits were falling in the demo last night?"

"Head, and torso. And wrist."

"Right. In the formal sport, those are the three main places, apart from the neck. But that strike's dangerous. Of course, none of this is true of real kenjutsu—you can hit any weak spot on the battlefield."

"Why is my handle blue?" Tsuki rubbed his fingers over the indigo stained suede of his shinai's hilt.

"You saw the gloves kendoka wear."

"Oh, right. It rubs off, huh?" He thought for a moment. "So whose shinai was this?"

Kakashi shrugged. "Mine, of course."

"I can use _your _shinai? Wow, cool! But… isn't it an antique?"

Kakashi's eyes widened. He scrutinized the boy's face, and determined that the comment had not been meant to insult. He sighed. Tsuki really _did_ see him as an old man. But it wasn't worth taking offense, he concluded. How many insults had his other students thrown his way?

"If you take care of your tools, they'll last forever," he said finally.

"But why did you study kendo? You were in ANBU, weren't you? They use ninjatou. I've seen them."

"All ANBU start with kendo, then move on to kenjutsu—both long and short sword, even though we only carry the ninjatou. But you have to learn defense first, and real blades are too deadly for that. Even for shinobi. And there's so much in common between kenjutsu and kendo that this is a good starting place."

"How long were you ANBU?"

"Years." Kakashi looked away, eager to find something in his environment to distract himself from memories of his time in black ops. There had been too much death, and too much carnage. Now would be the time to signal the end of this conversation by pulling out an _Icha, Icha _volume. Assuming he had one, that is. Not that there was any likelihood of that occurring while he was in this village.

After learning, the previous evening, that one of Karai's men had a penchant for the series, Kakashi had been eager to check out the village's two booksellers. The fact that he'd done this the day after first arriving in the village hadn't deterred him from a second visit. This morning he'd arrived at the doorstep of the closest store as soon as the shop had opened its shuttered windows, a sleepy novice ninja by his side. Kakashi had come up dry however, and Tsuki, though still only half-awake, had noticed his concern. Despite the fact that he come up with a plausible excuse about a book he thought Tsuki might enjoy, his son had seemed to see right through him. Sakura had probably told the boy about Kakashi's love for the series just after lighting his collection on fire, but before taking flight. The poor kid probably thought his sensei was a pervert.

He couldn't be more wrong, of course. The _Icha Icha _books were love stories, innocuous love stories of the type that lined bookshelves in every home. Certainly they were told in far more graphic detail than the typical romance novel, but they were still about love. Well, lust was probably a more accurate term. And while it was true that the books did not take the normal path of pre-destined, monogamous love, or faithfulness, they always had a happy ending. Who said a romance novel had to follow normal conventions? They were fiction, after all. Well-written fiction. Of the highest caliber. They were art, actually, though few realized this. And the fact that Kakashi enjoyed a good read every now signified only that he was educated. And literate, unlike many shinobi he knew, and a man of excellent taste. Really, he was more of a role model--

"Years?"

"Hmm? Yes. Many years."

"So you're good with the sword?"

Kakashi shrugged again. "_All _ANBU are good with a sword. Let me show you the first type of strike." Kakashi lifted his shinai over and behind his head, and with a quick motion, sprang forward on his right leg, while almost barking a yell. He repeated this several times, turning so that his student could get both a front and side view of the motion.

"Got it?" Kakashi dropped to Tsuki's side and helped position the shinai in his student's hands.

"Raise your hands directly in front of you, arms extended but not locked, and arc them over your head. Now bring them forward as you stomp on this foot. The object is to transfer your weight so that inertia continues to move you forward. That way all of your body is doing the work, not just the arms. Make sense?"

The boy nodded.

"Good. Now, imagine my head is here. No, don't stop there. Keep moving the shinai. The object is to slice your opponent in half." He moved to Tsuki's side and moved his hands through the form. Good. Do it two hundred times."

He looked on as Tsuki complied. Two hundred strokes of a bamboo sword would be enough to make most novices sweat. He smiled. Tsuki wasn't even breathing hard. Apparently, his normal, hyperactive movements had prepared him well for this training.

"Now add kiai to the next two hundred." Kakashi settled under the tree, the lack of a good book to read even more obvious, now that he wasn't actively engaged in training the boy. He'd memorized his only other book long ago, and sadly it wasn't anywhere near as interesting in the retelling as even Jiraiya's poorest work. _Icha, Icha Obliteration_, book seven in the series, was not the Hermit Sage's finest work. He'd recycled a few characters, and the main female protagonist was too much like Tsunade to be attractive. While it was true that the real Tsunade was almost a perfect ten in terms of her looks and her body, her personality was far too frightening to allow her—or any copy of her-- to be the focus of men's fantasies. Jiraiya was the only ninja Kakashi was aware of who had ever been in love with the older, bone-crushingly powerful Hokage. It wasn't surprising that Jiraiya had been focused on her during the writing of this book. Strangely, at the time she'd been leading the poor man on. That was what Jiraiya had told him, anyway, as he'd signed Kakashi's first edition.

"I said, 'What's kiai?'" Tsuki looked a bit frustrated. Had he not heard the boy?

"It's a battle cry—what I did before. You need to show spirit to intimidate your opponent. It also brings strength to your attack and makes your body more dense. ."

"Can't I use chakra for that? Seems like a waste not to."

Kakashi laughed. "Of course. When you graduate to the sword. But remember who we are, right now. Civilians."

Tsuki's grimace of disdain, followed quickly by dejection, was priceless. He looked like a hyperactive puppy hell-bent on playing fetch, who'd just noticed his master had put away his favorite ball. All he needed, Kakashi thought, were floppy ears and the downcast look Pakkun had perfected a month into their relationship. Kakashi smiled. He'd give the boy a perfect score for execution, but he wouldn't be swayed by such a show. His favorite ninken had seen to that, years ago.

"This is important practice. Shinobi can't always use chakra, s—Tsuki." Damn. He'd nearly said "son." What would Sakura have said if she'd witnessed that? Kakashi shook his head. Actually, she probably wouldn't have _said _anything, but what she would have _done_ would likely have been fatal.

"Louder," the copy ninja said as Tsuki punctuated each strike with a yell. "You can do better than that. Use your stomach. Focus your energy into it."

The senior shinobi watched his son practice strike after strike while yelling at the top of his very young lungs. Tsuki's form was very good for a novice, but this wasn't surprising. The boy had already shown him that he learned jutsu at top speed.

Why should this be any different?

Kakashi unpacked his _men _from its canvas bag, and after carefully wrapping a tenugui over the top of his head, set the heavy helmet and shoulder protector into place. He rapidly tied its himo and turned to his son.

"I can hardly see your face."

"That helps with intimidation. And the visor," he tapped the smoked Plexiglas screen behind the outer, metal bars of the helmet, "protects my eyes. Sometimes shinai break, and flying shards of bamboo can blind you. Considering that I have only one normal eye, this seemed like a reasonable precaution."

"Oh."

He knelt before his son.

"Do the form again. But this time, aim for the top of my head."

"Won't it hurt?"

"Only a little."

The boy slammed the flexible bamboo sword onto the crown of Kakashi's armor with a resounding crack.

Kakashi smiled, though this wasn't visible through the mask of his helmet. "That was pretty good. What were you imagining while you did that?"

"That I was splitting wood. Like I saw at Grandma and Grandpa Fuyuno's house."

"Wood?" The copy ninja had expected some description of gore, given the intensity of the attack. Most students started off with a half-hearted tap. Tsuki's hit had actually hurt a bit.

"I can't imagine splitting you in half."

"What if I was an enemy?"

"That would be different, I guess." Tsuki frowned. "But it would still be hard."

Kakashi nodded. "It _would_ be hard. It's _supposed_ to be hard."

"Ninja have to kill." Tsuki's voice was flat, but his words came out slowly, as though he were understanding, for the first time, the true import of these often-heard words. He looked confused and disappointed, as if he'd just discovered that a much sought after toy was not all it had been advertised to be. But this was worse, of course. Toys, unlike ninja, did not have the power to take a life.

His eyes were had glazed over, Kakashi noticed. What was Tsuki his son imagining right now? Kakashi, or worse yet, Sakura killing someone? The copy ninja sighed. This wouldn't have happened if the boy had been born in Konoha. Children there were indoctrinated almost from birth with not only the propaganda surrounding the world of the shinobi, but also, importantly, with the truth. Students entering the academy had no illusions about the world they were entering, and if Tsuki hadn't been so sheltered prior to arriving in Konoha, neither would he.

Kakashi untied the himo binding his helmet in place and removed the heavy, indigo-colored armor. He rested his hand on Tsuki's shoulder and looked into the boy's eyes as he spoke, to make sure the boy understood the truth of his words. "That's our job, yes."

"But, why?"

"To protect our village. Its citizens can't protect themselves alone. Our enemies are too strong."

"You've killed?"

Kakashi nodded. "Many times" He paused, noting how intently Tsuki was looking into his eyes. The boy didn't flinch upon hearing Kakashi was a killer, but neither did he accept it lightly. He didn't smile or frown. Instead he simply seemed to be drinking it all in, saving the analysis for later. Tsuki sat perfectly still, his body in the kneeling, _seiza_ position most children couldn't tolerate for more than five or ten minutes. It was obvious he wanted to hear more.

"And each time was as hard as the first. It's never gotten easier. Not even when I saw my enemies kill my comrades and my friends. But that's how it's supposed to be. Never forget that, Tsuki. Killing isn't supposed to be easy, and it's not supposed to make you feel good."

"Mom told me that too. She told me about a ninja named Zabuza. You killed him, didn't you?"

Kakashi nodded again. "I had a part in it, yes."

"But mom said he died with dignity. That you made sure of that. Is that true?"

"Of course. He was shinobi. He deserved that." Kakashi wondered what else Sakura had told Tsuki about her training. Funny. He'd assumed she'd only shared negative stuff, or nothing at all.

"Even though he was your enemy?"

"He was still human, and he was protecting those he loved. He died with honor."

"That's what I should think of, isn't it?"

"What's that?"

"When I strike. I should think about protecting the people I love. You and mom, and Granny Fuyuno and Tsunade."

_He just said he loves you._

Kakashi found himself uncharacteristically flustered. "Um. Well, that's what _I_ do."

_Shit. That was a mistake. Here it comes…_

"So who do _you _love?" Tsuki was looking at him intently, he saw. It wouldn't be possible to worm his way out of this one.

"I…"

"Boys?" Kakashi had never, ever been so glad to see Sakura.

"Did you save some dinner for me?"

* * *

Sakura sat down with an ungraceful _thunk_, the contents of the paper bag she held clinking. She leaned back against the spreading willow, grateful for the shade that provided some relief from the heat of the early evening. Her son rushed past in a blur, stopping only for a quick kiss and to announce his plan to collect more rocks from the riverbank.

"You look a little worn out. You told him, I gather." She gestured to the neat pyramid of river-smoothed stones at the far edge of the picnic blanket. It was typical that Kakashi had pressed their just-washed bedspread into service, she noted. Hopefully, the small, muddy footprints left by her son on it would wash out.

"Has Tsuki done this type of thing before?" Kakashi looked at her curiously, as though he were eager to learn the ways of an alien species.

"He counts things when he's anxious. Or excited. It gives him a feeling of control, I think. Did he say what they were for?"

"One pebble for each hour I'm gone." He grabbed a small stone from the rather large pile and tossed it mindlessly as he spoke.

Sakura eyed the small pyramid of rocks. "He must think you're going to be gone for quite a while." How many were there? Five hundred? "What did Izumi tell you, anyway? Where exactly are you going?"

"Earth country—I know that much. As for length of time, I'd say a week or two. I was pretty vague with Tsuki—I didn't want to get his hopes up."

"Good idea." She smiled. Kakashi certainly was learning the ropes of parenting. "Doing as you said you would do" was a key sticking point for many kids. Tsuki was definitely one of these. His world revolved, at times, around the idea of fairness and keeping one's word. Not that this was a bad thing—Tsuki just took it to extremes occasionally. But to his credit, Kakashi had caught on quickly.

"Has she told you why you're going?" Sakura asked.

"Why _me_? Or why _in_ _general_?"

"Either."

"_Me_, I think, because she's beginning to trust me. Although she's sure to spring something on me about the false name. _In general_, either to meet with new clients or wine and dine the old. That last shipment was to Earth—makes sense she'd want to follow up."

"Right." Sakura nodded. "Have to maintain the sales base, I guess. Those kunai don't sell themselves!" She giggled at the thought of a motivational seminar for weapons traders. Once in Waterfall, she had stumbled upon a sales seminar. She had been horrified by the cheesy team-building activities forced on the participants. They had been forced to wear hats, each labeled with descriptions of a randomly chosen persona. Each then had to figure out his new persona, based on others' words and reactions. The object, she remembered, had been to "see the stereotypes we use in life." Her imagination conjured up an image of a room filled with tough Kakashi-like weapon traders, forced to endure such touchy-feely crap. It was enough to make her snort.

Kakashi noticed, of course, the decidedly unkunoichi-like noise she made. The look he gave her in response was clearly of the "do not go there" variety.

She was getting punchy, she realized. This was a sure sign of overwork.

"So." Sakura turned away for a moment to remove her smile before rearranging the rest of her body on the bedspread.

"What's for dinner?"

Kakashi pushed a paper plate her way. "Fried chicken. It's cold now, but it's better that way."

Sakura enthusiastically grabbed the plate from him, too hungry to bother to give thanks for the meal. She sighed as she bit into a crisply coated leg. It was perfect comfort food. "You didn't cook this, did you?"

He grinned, showing a dimple identical to Tsuki's, and pointed to a greasy paper bag imprinted with the name of a nearby take-away place. "You've already experienced the entirety of my culinary repertoire. This type of food is far beyond my skills."

Sakura polished off the drumstick and a thigh before speaking again. "Got any bamboo shoots?"

"Right here." He passed a smaller plastic-lidded cup to her, as well as a napkin. "And edamame."

"Perfect." She was silent again, as she devoured the meal.

"Oh. I brought you something." Sakura pulled a six-pack of beer from the paper bag and assessed his reaction. It was muted, but she still saw the surprise in Kakashi's eyes. She'd gone back and forth at the corner store as she considered the purchase, nearly driving the store's sole clerk crazy in the process. She didn't want to put a stamp of approval on Kakashi's drinking, but on the other hand, he'd shown considerable restraint since they'd been here. He wasn't drinking any more than any normal person, shinobi or otherwise. And it _was_ hot, today. Blazing hot.

"I have juice, too," she said as Kakashi pointedly ignored the six-pack, swigging from a water jug instead. "Though you'll have to share with Tsuki. But he won't mind." Perhaps he thought this was some kind of test. Was it? She realized she wasn't sure of her intent. She sighed, then uncapped a cool bottle herself and eagerly sipped the foamy, amber brew. She normally didn't drink much, but a warm summer evening seemed incomplete without a beer in hand.

"That client was from Iwagakure, wasn't he?"

"That was my guess. He mentioned a village, and Rock is known for their weapon-making skills."

"Aren't you worried they'll recognize you?"

"Their last bingo book didn't even have a picture, and the description had me about 15 cm shorter and 10 kilos heavier. Didn't even mention the Sharingan."

Sakura frowned. Were they really that out of touch? It was true that Rock had kept to itself over the years, but the five great nations were their only sworn enemies. They were known to be trading partners with the smaller countries. Maybe it was true that Rock ninja were all brawn and no brains. Kakashi certainly didn't seem worried, at any rate.

"We may not be meeting with Rock, anyway. I got the impression that our business is with the key daimyou of Earth."

Sakura nodded. In all of the great ninja countries, there was a delicate balance between the country's government and its hidden village. Rock, therefore would be unlikely to share any intelligence relating to foreign ninja with Earth's heads of state. That explained Kakashi's comfort level, she realized.

"So," she smiled as she noticed the kendo equipment lying nearby. "Will you be bringing your shinai along?"

"Hmm? No. Why would I do that?"

"To fend her off. From what those lackeys said last night, it's obvious you'll be Izumi's next target. You are shaping up to be her personal… assistant, after all."

Kakashi turned to her, and she noticed a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Jealous, are we?"

"No," she spluttered. "Why would I be _jealous_? I already know what you are, Kakashi. I have no delusions on that score."

"You're so… childish when it comes to sex." The copy ninja sighed theatrically. "To answer your question—"

"You already answered my question."

"The question you wanted to ask. We're ninja. So if it suits the goals of the mission, Sakura, yes, I'll sleep with her. As I'd expect you to."

"You'd expect me to sleep with Izumi?" Sakura's eyes widened involuntarily.

"If it advanced the mission, of course." Kakashi smiled, obviously amused by her innocence. "But in this case, it wouldn't. We're married, Sakura, for all intents and purposes. I'm not going to jeopardize our cover." He moved closer to place a hand on her shoulder. "And neither are you."

His usual lazy-eyed gaze was absent, she noted, replaced with a look that pierced her to the core. Was he ordering her, or was that a threat?

"Why are you suggesting that I would jeopardize our cover?"

He blinked. "Karai."

"_Again_? What is your problem, Kakashi?"

"It's not my problem. It's yours."

"_What_ is my problem?"

"Your…" he seemed to be searching for the right word. "Your innocence. Your willingness to believe uncritically. To see the best in each person. To make it up, even."

"I don't—"

"But you _do_. And it's worse than that. You still can't put your emotions aside."

"Yes. I. _Can_."

"I want you to stay away from him, Sakura."

"You want me to stay away from our target? Our _quarry_? While you get close to the other half?" She glowered, fists curling involuntarily at her side.

"What will you do when he kisses you?"

"Kisses me? He's not going to—"

"Yes, Sakura, he will." Kakashi's voice was disturbingly calm. Annoying calm. Frustratingly cool and objective, in fact.

"You're an ass. Even if he _did_, do you really think I can't control my emotions? I'm a kunoichi, idiot! I trained in the arts of seduction! I—"

Her words were stopped short by the sudden crushing of Kakashi's lips against her own. She fought him, but only for a moment. This was different from the kiss the night before. It was more charged with emotion, and more demanding. She found herself melting against him as he trapped her against the rough bark of the willow, his legs pinning hers as he straddled her. Why was he doing this? She pushed her emotions aside, her body stiffening a bit, as she quickly determined the likely cause. This was some kind of lesson, she realized. He was trying to show her that she was too easily aroused, too willing to ascribe positive motives to others. She really should kick him, or bite his tongue off. Or…something. _He_ was the one who needed to be schooled.

But if this were true—if he _were_ trying to teach her a lesson, would she be detecting this much emotion from him? The passion in this kiss seemed real. This kiss was hungry. And urgent. Worse, it was confusing her. Now, as his lips glided along the base of her jaw she felt herself thinking, "_Who cares?_" Who cared if this were some kind of game? Why not play along for a bit? She hadn't been kissed like this in a very long time. She could deal with any loose ends later.

"Your skin is like velvet." Kakashi's voice was a luxuriant purr. "You make me lose my better judgment, Sakura." He found her lips again, and kissed them, lightly, this time. But still demandingly. Torturously.

"Mmm."

"I don't want to share you."

She melted a bit more as his words sunk in. This wasn't a game to him. She was sure of it now-- his voice was laden with emotion. Was he actually…jealous?

"Do you like this? Do you want me to stop?"

She didn't reply, instead entwining her fingers in his unruly hair in an effort to pull him closer.

He resisted-- she could feel his body tense as he held back from her. This was a sure sign of a control freak, she thought fleetingly. This was to be on his terms, she realized. His touch was teasing now. He nibbled her lips with his own, barely caressing their surface until they parted just enough for him to gain access. She sighed and he took full advantage, deepening the kiss as though he'd decided she was no longer allowed to breathe. His hand now joined in this gentle, and not unwelcome assault. He caressed her breast, easily freeing it from its lacy confines, then tormenting her nipple into a turgid, hypersensitive state. She wanted to moan, and almost did cry out as his attentions moved to the nape of her neck. His tongue barely touched her as it moved along her hairline, his breath causing the fine hairs to stand at attention.

"How about now? How does this make you feel?" His voice was a murmur, a throaty, sexually-imbued whisper that aroused her even further.

"Wow…"

Kakashi hopped back to rock on his heels, and his lips, she saw, were curled into a smug smile.

Sakura looked at him in confusion then slowly realized that her first intuition had been right. That devious--

"Asshole!" She struck his chest with a blow just strong enough to knock him onto his back. "You fucking bastard." Her cheeks flamed with humiliation as she stood.

"I am what I am. I never claimed to be otherwise."

Her feet were in the perfect position, relative to his crotch, for a chakra-charged stomp he would never forget. She quickly summoned the energy—not enough to maim him for life, but enough to keep him from coming close to her for a long while. But he seemed to read her mind, nimbly catching her foot just before it hit paydirt and easily flipping her over him. She landed with an "oof" on the edge of the bedspread, and huffed, dragon-like with sulphurous rage.

"Mom? Dad?" The tiny ninja bounded through the lush green curtain of pendant willow leaves.

_Great. Just great. _What had Tsuki seen? Sakura scrambled to her knees and made a furtive, ineffective attempt to straighten her clothes and smooth her hair. She watched as her son glanced from her to Kakashi.

"Have you been sparring?" When neither she nor Kakashi answered, her son merely shrugged. Instead, he turned his attention to removing numerous small rocks from his bulging pants pockets. Despite her anger, Sakura had to smile. His pants were drooping from the added weight, the way they had when he was in diapers.

"Look what I found!" Tsuki held out a colorful collection of wet pebbles for inspection.

"Wow, those are beautiful. Shiny! They're agates, I think." Sakura grinned as she tickled the small boy. "Come on, Tsuki. Let's go. It's bedtime."

Her smile vanished as her eyes met Kakashi's and her anger intensified at the sight of his placid smile. He looked away, languorously stretching his arms, then resting them behind his head as he gazed into the foliage above him. She set her lips in a tight line. Noting his distraction, she methodically removed the caps of each of the remaining bottles of beer, replacing each in the cardboard holder as she finished. With a single, smooth movement she stood, hoisting Tsuki onto her hip as she did so. Then, with a seemingly accidental kick of her foot, she knocked the carrier onto its side as she strode away, turning her head slightly to give Kakashi an evil smile. A small cascade of bubbling, hops-flavored water was already pouring out over the blanket and dinner. And onto him.

"But what about Dad?" Her son hadn't seen the small beer river, thanks to the way she was holding him against her.

"Don't worry. He'll be along soon. But he promised he'd get this mess cleaned up. That was nice of him, wasn't it?"

* * *

Kakashi rose well before the sun, as he knew Izumi would want to leave precisely at 6 a.m. Why this was true he had no idea. However, as he was still working on getting her to trust him, he'd decided his normal tardy habits would be set aside for the duration of the mission.

Sakura wasn't in bed, he saw as he rolled over, and the spot where she normally lay was cool to the touch. She'd been lying there, asleep, when he'd come in late the night before. She hadn't awoken as he'd joined her in bed, not even when he pulled her close. She was so different when she slept, so peaceful, so kitten-like in her willingness to snuggle up against him. But apparently, she'd woken up at night to find herself next to him, and his diurnal tigress had left in disgust.

He didn't blame her for not wanting to be near him right now. He'd meant to teach her a lesson, and he was confident that he had succeeded. Surely his message had been driven home—she was too emotional to trust herself with Izumi's brother. She had to realize, now, that the man would take advantage of her. He knew she was aware of the danger that would cause to their mission. Their cover would be compromised, and Izumi and Karai might begin digging deeper. Kakashi felt fully justified in pointing this out to Sakura in a way she was sure to understand. And if her feelings were hurt in the process-- well, the ends surely justified the means.

The anger had been an ancillary benefit of this lesson. Her eyes had flashed once she'd realized the point of their impromptu make-out session, and that had made him laugh inside. He loved her spirit. She was easily the most hot-tempered person he'd ever met. She was worse than Tsunade, even. Making her angry was worth the near body slam, the attempted kick to the jewels, and the anointing with beer that followed. Plus the kiss hadn't been bad, at all. Along with her hot temper came passion, of course. She had been a bit stiff at the start, reserved enough that he'd wondered, briefly, how limited her experience was. He'd then remembered her marriage and realized the reserve was due to him. But she'd relaxed and had succumbed to it, then eagerly participated. She'd shown him she'd wanted more. He'd eagerly obliged, and had begun to get a bit carried away before hurriedly pulling himself together.

He smiled now, as he moved quietly to the bathroom and started the shower flowing. She was probably in the living room, asleep on the couch. There was no need to wake her or Tsuki.

Kakashi was surprised, then, to emerge from the shower to the smell of broiling fish. He loped into the kitchen, towel around his neck, to see the table set for one. A half-clad Sakura tended to the stove. The view was great, despite the fact that she was wearing the same tank top and boxers she always wore to bed. He made a mental note to hide them before he left. Or perhaps he should burn them. This reminder of her former lover irked him, almost as much as the thought of her kissing Karai.

"You'd never believe how hard I had to look to find these fish."

He peeked into the oven. Saury? Broiled with red miso? No wonder the smell coming from the kitchen had been so enticing. But there wasn't a fish monger in town. Grass villagers were primarily meat and poultry-eaters, with only the occasional fresh water fish thrown in. This made sense, given their distance from the ocean. Kakashi smiled. He hadn't realized Sakura was aware of his favorite meal.

There was no eggplant, he noticed, but that really wasn't a breakfast food anyway. He lifted the lid of the rice cooker and spooned out a large helping of the slightly sticky grains, and sighed with anticipation as Sakura set a few small fish on his plate.

"I really didn't expect this." The fish, through once frozen, was quite good, it's flaky flesh perfectly accented by the salty miso glaze.

"You're lucky. I was on the verge of throwing them out last night."

Such a temper on the girl. She was quite serious, he knew. Trashing the ingredients for his favorite meal was well within the scope of things she'd consider fair retribution. Kakashi shook his head as he dipped a square of nori in beaten egg, and used it to scoop up some rice. "I'm very glad you didn't." He paused, not sure whether he should ask the next question.

"So… why didn't you?" he asked after slurping the still-hot miso soup she'd set at his place. It was perfect.

"Asshole or not, you're my partner, and you're leaving today. My dad taught me never to leave business unfinished. It… it didn't seem right to send you off angry." She didn't have to say the rest—he understood completely. In a job like theirs, one never knew when a goodbye might be final.

She sat down opposite him, after removing a small package from the top of the fridge. "You really don't deserve this, either. I'm still annoyed at you, and in case you're wondering, I haven't forgiven you. But here, take it." She slid the paper-wrapped bundle across the table. He opened it eagerly.

_Icha, Icha Abundance?_ The pages of the book didn't quite glow when he opened it, which wasn't unexpected, as the volume wasn't Jiraiya's finest work (though it _was_ pretty good). Nonetheless, Kakashi was completely surprised by Sakura's gift, surprised enough to feel a twinge of guilt at his behavior the previous evening. _Her _behavior seemed completely out of character, at first glance. He hadn't expected a send-off like this after the way he'd treated her-- even though it had been for her own good. Maybe she'd hidden an explosive tag among the book's pages, or spiked his breakfast with a laxative herb. But no, that wasn't Sakura. She'd already gotten her revenge. She was a creature of impulse, after all. And it was often counterproductive to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"You're right. I don't deserve it." He smiled genuinely at her thoughtfulness. "But thank you. So, where did you find it?"

He'd looked all over the damn village without a bit of luck.

She smiled. "A patient…uh, gave it to me. I figure as long as you're not near Tsuki while you read it, I don't mind. And I guess it will keep you company."

"Hmm?" He looked up from the first page of the volume, and with an effort, shut and pushed aside the book. "Excellent cooking, by the way. You're spoiling me, Sakura."

"No. That happened long ago. I'm sure you were rotten years before we met." She turned back to the stove, but not before he noticed the slight blush on her cheeks.

"Mom? Dad?" Tsuki shuffled into the kitchen. He held his stuffed tiger in one hand, while rubbing his eyes with the other. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the room's bright, fluorescent glare. "You weren't going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?" The boy climbed into Kakashi's lap and buried his face in his father's chest.

"I wouldn't do that, Tsuki. Never."

He was crying, Kakashi realized as Tsuki trembled against him. He should comfort the boy, he guessed. The copy ninja hesitantly moved his palm in a circle against his son's back, and was discomfited to find that this seemed to worsen things.

Tsuki's sobs deepened as he tried to speak. "I don't… want you to…g-go."

"I'll be back soon. I promise. Count the days. It won't be more than fourteen." Kakashi gently lifted Tsuki's head and looked into stormy, green-grey eyes he remembered well. They were those of the copy nin's mother, not only in color and shape but in their ability to communicate every emotion. They glistened with tears as his mother's had, years and years before. And like her eyes, Tsuki's were even more beautiful when he cried, the lashes darkened and clumped by his tears, the irises a deepened shade of seawater.

Tsuki was trying not to sob, Kakashi observed. He was doing his best to reign in his emotions and steady his breath, but it wasn't working. Again Kakashi was reminded of his own mother's struggles years before. The young civilian had been poorly equipped for the shunning she'd experienced after her husband's "betrayal" of the village. She'd been even more poorly equipped for widowhood. She showed every emotion she felt, which was a good thing when times were happy, but not when one was alone in the world, in pain, and being judged mercilessly. She'd tried so hard to be stoic. Kakashi hadn't known how to help her, so he'd been cold and emotionless for the two of them. That probably hadn't been the best strategy, but what did little boys know about life?

It had been so long since he'd allowed himself to think of his mother. What would she think of her grandson, if she were still alive? Would she see herself in him? Would she be happy to see Sakumo in him as well? Kakashi smoothed Tsuki's hair away from his face as the boy tried unsuccessfully to reign in his sobbing. It would be wrong to kiss him, Kakashi knew, although that was what his intuition said to do. But it would only confuse the boy, and anger Sakura. And like his mother, Kakashi saw that Tsuki was fighting unsuccessfully to hold back the deluge that threatened.

"Are you listening? Look at me so I can tell you understand. I'll be back before you know it." Kakashi kept his voice soft, though surely that wouldn't be enough to calm the boy. He realized that he was without any tools that might ease the boy's tears. It was disconcerting to be so powerless.

The jounin looked up to see Sakura beside him, her arms outstretched. He passed the sobbing boy to her and noted how he clung to her, molding himself to her contours, as a marsupial might. Tsuki's mother looked concerned, and rightly so, Kakashi realized, as an epiphany came to him. The copy ninja finally understood how hard it had been for Sakura to share her son with him. The boy's every tear was like a punch to the gut, each sob a laceration. Her every action, for years, now, had been to protect this treasure, to keep him from tears and heartache. Kakashi now saw that this was his goal, too. He wanted nothing more than to protect Tsuki. And Sakura, as well.


	21. Chapter 21 Fruits of the Earth

A Book of Five Rings

Chapter 21 – Fruits of the Earth.

He'd forgotten something. Something important. He had no idea what this something might be, but there was definitely something left undone. He felt a bit disoriented, the way he'd felt for days after being deprived of his precious books by Sakura. It was the same way he felt when he realized he hadn't been drunk in a while. His body was trying to tell him something, but he had no idea what. He was sure this wasn't the usual bout of second-guessing most travelers experienced. Kakashi had no iron to unplug or stove to worry about turning off, and apart from that, he was shinobi. He was used to travel and making and executing finely detailed plans. Shinobi didn't forget. Forgetting could lead to injury, or worse, death.

But he was certain that this time he _had_ forgotten something. He must be getting old. It was the memory that went first, or so he'd been told. Even before the physical strength. It was a subtle deterioration, not noticed until it was too late, and a desk job threatened. He shuddered involuntarily at the thought of such a fate. That would be the antithesis of everything he'd strived for in his adult life. To spend his remaining years as a paper pusher would further mock those he'd insulted by remaining alive. It would be the opposite of the hero's death he longed for.

Kakashi sighed, then silently chided himself. He was overreacting. He must be.

'Let's see,' he told himself. He'd packed everything he was sure to need—clothes, underwear, toiletries, his precious book (though he'd kept that in his jeans pocket, not tucked into some easily stolen bag). He'd also hidden on his person a narrow roll of paper and pencil stub. Thanks to the mandated tracking device implanted weeks earlier, Konoha's office of information would undoubtedly notice his movement out of Grass and likely send a homing hawk his way. The Hokage was certainly due an update, and he had a lot to share. Late this evening he'd sneak up to the roof where the raptor was sure to be waiting for him.

Could this feeling of unease have something to do with Tsuki? Kakashi racked his brain as he considered his last moments with the boy. The copy nin had taken their separation almost as poorly as his ninja-in-training, although Kakashi had done a much better job than his son at holding in his emotions. Seeing Sakura walk away from him, child clutched to her chest had left a searing impression in his mind. She protected those she loved—protected them with a vengeance. She would never let Tsuki come to harm. Her fierce devotion would never allow it.

No, whatever was left undone had nothing to do with Tsuki. The boy was in good hands. The best hands. And he'd said his goodbyes to his son. He'd even left a small gift by his bedside the night before, which would hopefully be enjoyed--

"So are you a soldier or a thief?" Kakashi looked up from an indecipherable menu to see Izumi regarding him with irritation. Apparently she expected more from her men-in-waiting. Their setting certainly suggested this. He'd rarely dined in such opulence. This restaurant resembled a men's club, with its dark-stained leather chairs and burnished wooden walls. It was over-decorated, however, which took away from a masculinity that might have seemed comforting, otherwise. Mirrors framed in heavily carved and gilded frames hung opposite each other, repeatedly reflecting the image of the room towards a cold, increasingly dark infinity. The table setting added to his discomfort. The thick, damask cloths covering each table reached almost to the floor, not only adding to the room's oppressive feeling, but suggesting a formality with which he was less than comfortable. The plethora of silver-plated eating utensils only exacerbated the alien feel of Kakashi's environment. He knew how to eat with a knife and fork—all shinobi were trained in the use of the basic artifacts of other cultures—but who knew what one was supposed to do with three knifes, four forks and two spoons?

The room was dimly lit, as well—the perfect place for secret meetings of government staff, or rendezvous between daimyou and high-priced call girls. Or between rich, lonely women and their gigolos. But this absence of light, while appropriate for clandestine rendezvous, made it almost impossible to make out what was written on the thick, oversized menu. There were pages and pages of offerings, all in a language he'd seen written only two or three times. Worse, he had no idea how to pronounce it. So much for the value of the Sharingan: memorization was of little value in the absence of comprehension.

A sommelier stood by an extensive collection of sake and western wines, idly turning each bottle, and a _maitre d'_ stood nearby, apparently doing nothing. Kakashi assumed this was the place they'd be meeting their clients. This surfeit of under-employed workers added to the feeling of sophistication. It more accurately hinted at intimidation. The hotel restaurant was empty, as it was late—well past the hour for dining. Yet Izumi had somehow convinced them to keep the kitchen open. She'd been adamant about dining here, despite the late hour that they'd arrived. Perhaps it was to get the lay of the place.

"Is that your standard conversation opener? You've asked me that before."

"So…you're both?"

"Neither." Kakashi gestured to their waiter, who walked quickly in their direction.

"Then why did you leave Waterfall?"

"We've been over this. The war was encroaching. Sakura and Tsuki had seen enough."

"Such a family man." She smirked sarcastically before turning away for a moment to address the waiter. "Wagyu beef rib-eye, rare, with the red-wine and green peppercorn demi-glaze and sautéed vegetables-- sounds lovely, thanks. With a mixed salad to start and a bottle of this wine-" she pointed to a selection on the wine list and the waiter bowed obligingly.

"And you, sir?"

"He'll have what I'm having." That neatly took care of the fact that he couldn't read the menu.

The waiter looked at Kakashi curiously. Apparently he thought he was in the presence of a kept man. Of course, if Kakashi was reading Izumi correctly, that was exactly what she intended the man to think. It _was_ what she was after from Kakashi. Sakura had been right about Izumi, though he'd never admit that to the hot-tempered kunoichi's face. He wouldn't be surprised if Izumi threw herself at him before dinner was half-over. What would Sakura have to say once she found out? She'd probably skewer him with mockery after basting with a few well-placed "I-told-you-so's."

"So, you and your family just up and left all your possessions and left the country? Sorry, but I'm not buying it. You're either an AWOL soldier or a criminal. Though if you're AWOL, that does make you a criminal, doesn't it? At least in the eyes of the army." She pulled a golden-blonde curl from the collection artfully arranged around her shoulders, then wrapped it around her finger.

"I'm not a criminal."

"Then why did you leave Waterfall, _Fuyuno Yuki_?"

Kakashi allowed his eyes to widen in what he hoped was a reasonable facsimile of shock mingled with just a touch of fear. It hadn't taken Izumi long to spring her little trap on him. He'd thought she would toy with him a bit longer. But this was no playful kitten he had on his hands. She had the expression and bearing of a lioness, just about to pounce on its prey.

No, that wasn't right. She was less subtle than he'd just given her credit for. And less patient. A lioness would appraise the situation and watch carefully before attacking. He guessed Izumi was acting merely on the information she'd obtained from their mocked-up travel documents. That was rash, and definitely not cat-like.

"It was obvious you were hiding something. I just did a little digging, Yuki-kun."

"Don't call me that."

"Why not? It suits you, with your white hair."

"It's silver."

"Silver. Okay, Yuki-kun." Her amber eyes glinted.

"I _said_ not to call me that." For some reason being referred to by Sakura's late husband's name annoyed him.

"Why not?"

"Does it matter?" His voice was sharper than he intended, and he was surprised to see Izumi shrink back slightly. He frowned. It was never a good idea to piss off the boss.

He watched as she collected herself before speaking again. She seemed surprised to find that her prey had claws. Her face settled into a cool smile. "No. I guess not. Oh, well, Musashi is cuter, anyway. And I'll bet you don't want your sweet little Sakura to find out that I know. She seems like the worrying type. Do you think she misses you?" Izumi propped her chin on her hands and gave Kakashi an exaggerated look of wide-eyed curiosity. There was something odd in her expression, Kakashi noticed—something beneath the carefully arranged expression. It was jealousy, most likely. Some women were like that, viewing every member of their sex as potential competition.

"Do you really care?"

Izumi laughed, a real laugh this time, free and uninhibited. Her eyes crinkled, he noticed, when the smile was real, and the lines around her lips became a bit more pronounced. She probably didn't realize it, but she seemed more human that way. Then again, maybe she did realize.

"No. Not really."

He hadn't thought so. Time to change the subject.

"So. What's the plan?"

"Breakfast at nine. Our clients will be meeting us in the suite at eleven. You look good, by the way."

Kakashi shrugged. He hated suits, and he had to admit that it perturbed him a bit to be wearing clothes that a boss had picked out. Especially a female boss. The suit was well cut, no doubt about that, and obviously expensive, which added to the feeling of being a high-priced male escort. And how had she known what size to purchase? A valet had appeared in his room with several choices, but all of them had been pretty close to his true measurements. Apparently this woman knew her way around a man's anatomy.

Izumi's smile was almost a leer. "You should dress like this all the time. Maybe I should institute a dress code for work." She laughed as his eyes widened. "Wear the pale blue shirt, tomorrow. It will set off your eyes. And the red- and blue-striped tie."

He should have known this was coming. She'd frowned when she saw his backpack, curtly instructing him to stuff it into an expensive-looking tooled leather suitcase she'd produced. Hers, he'd noticed, were a matching set of the highest quality. Even in Konoha they'd heard of that particular designer.

Kakashi hadn't traveled in such luxury in quite a long time, not since his last mission as a royal escort. That had been years ago. As shinobi he was more used to traveling by foot, through the tree canopy or undergrowth. To go by road, in a carriage, no less, was something he'd experienced on few occasions. The road out of Grass and into Earth was poorly maintained, filled with ruts and potholes, but the carriage was so well-sprung that it had barely jostled them as it moved along. He'd actually fallen asleep partway through the journey, though Izumi had seen to it that this didn't last for long. She'd talked for hours, obviously glad of the company. He knew more now about Izumi's client base, and the products these clients intended to purchase, than he'd dared hope. He'd have a lot to put into tonight's hawk-delivered message to Konoha.

"Damn it!"

Kakashi looked up to see that Izumi had spilled wine down the front of her dress. It was barely noticeable, as the dress was of a deep russet color, silk, if he had to guess, but the napkin she rubbed across her bodice was quickly seeped in red. The thin, wet garment clung to her skin, and couldn't help but notice that she wore nothing underneath. This was surprising, given the size of her… assets. She really did have a nice pair, he'd give her that. Big, and obviously firm. Like melons, perfectly ripe summer melons. They were a lot like the tits Jiraiya had drawn for the heroine in _Icha, Icha, Embargo_. Now_ that_ had been a good book. It had just enough plot to give the sex scenes some context, but not enough to drag things down. Too bad Sakura hadn't found a copy of _it_. Although he certainly wouldn't mind reading _Icha, Icha, Abundance_ again. It really had been far too long…

"Idiot!" Was Izumi addressing _him_? Perhaps he'd spent a little too much time admiring the produce. She was furious, he noticed, as his gaze drifted back to her face, although the usual tells were absent. Her skin wasn't red, and her brows were still perfectly arched over a seemingly placid face. Her body was rigid however, and her voice lacked the playful tinge he had noticed earlier.

No, he quickly surmised, this wasn't about him. The spilled wine was clearly the issue. Someone on the serving staff clearly was going to take the brunt of her anger, though the accident was obviously her own fault. Kakashi observed Izumi dispassionately as she threw the sodden napkin on the table.

"Eat your salad. Don't bother waiting for me—this is going to take a while."

She hurriedly left the table. Kakashi smiled as the maitre d' tried to soothe the very irate woman that now appeared intent on ruining him. Unlike Sakura, she wasn't yelling, or threatening violence. Yet somehow, she seemed more formidable, more dangerous. Unlike Sakura, it was clear Izumi would consider the consequences of her actions. She'd consider them carefully, quite carefully, before acting. She was most definitely not a creature of impulse. And unlike Sakura, she'd show no remorse once she acted. While Sakura had certainly inflicted quite a bit of physical pain on her teammates (particularly Naruto) over the years, she'd always apologized afterwards. What's more, she'd always meant it. But here was a woman who quite possibly had never experienced remorse. This was a woman who wouldn't label outcomes as good or bad-- at least not as far as others were concerned. Consequences would be viewed solely through the prism of her own goals and desires. Izumi was obviously ruthless. Amoral, even. If his pink-haired kunoichi was an explosive tag, this one was…a missile? No, there was no selfishness involved in a missile detonating itself. Yet self was the key attribute of this woman. A virus, that's what she was, an entity devoted solely to its own advancement. She embodied the polar opposite of the values of a community like Konoha.

The maitre d' was cowering, Kakashi noticed, actually cowering under her verbal assault. Kakashi grimaced in distaste. How was Izumi's spilled wine in any way the poor man's fault?

The copy ninja sighed as he picked at the first course. Women. The man who'd labeled them the weaker sex should be strung up by _his_.

A glass of beer or wine would go well with the coming meal. He didn't normally drink on missions, as it was best to keep ones senses fully primed, but it would help to be a bit more relaxed in dealing with this… virago. It was his own rule anyway, and therefore, one he could break with impunity. Shinobi were allowed to drink on the job, particularly if it would help one's cover. Besides, wine and beer were a part of Earth's bounty, a gift of the gods, some said. The copy ninja picked up the narrow, tasseled wine list and immediately frowned. He should have known that it, too, would be indecipherable. Oh, well, maybe the waiter would recommend something when he returned.

Kakashi patted his pocket with the air of a child who has just remembered an unopened birthday gift, but deflated slightly as he realized his book was missing. He must have left it back in the room while changing for dinner. Damn. This was a perfect opportunity to catch up on his reading. He wouldn't read around Izumi, as there was an outside chance she'd heard about an _Icha, Icha_ reading ninja. But clearly she wouldn't be back for a while. When a woman said, "Just a minute" in reference to the bathroom, she meant a minimum of a half-hour. "This is going to take a while," probably meant he'd be on his own for the next couple of hours.

Oh, well. He could fantasize, instead. It wasn't as though he didn't have every word memorized. And every minute detail of each drawing. Kakashi munched his salad as he considered the toad sage's many illustrations. Which was his favorite?

There were the amazingly drawn bondage scenes from _Icha, Icha, Captivity_, where every nuance of Jiraiya's writing had been captured in simple, elegant line drawings. The outfit he'd drawn on page 87 for the heroine had been absolutely delightful—how he'd gotten it past the censors was a wonder, as it showed more flesh than was typically allowed in Konoha's books. The garment, made up of mere strips of black leather bound together with silver rings, had occupied his imagination for days on end. An entrepreneur could make a bundle selling knock-offs of it to eager-to-please girlfriends of leather fetishists. But that outfit wasn't the only one that had tempted his imagination. The last illustration in the book, where the same girl appeared covered from neck to toe in leather was easily as titillating. Whether this was due to the combination of thigh-high boots and barely-there miniskirt, or the well placed cutouts in the outfit's top half was hard to discern.

But were those drawings better than the full color, lust-in-a-meadow-_au-naturel_ scenes of _Icha, Icha, Embargo_? Hmm. That was a tough one. In those illustrations, Jiraiya's use of color and light had been breathtaking. So was the way he'd used the tall meadow grass to hide just enough of the heroine's flesh to tease the viewer. The picture he'd painted was so vivid that Kakashi could almost smell the scent of clover and crushed grass.

But no, the best drawings were definitely from the classic _Icha, Icha, Tactics_. That one drawing where the nameless hero had taken the innocent Junko against a rough, cinderblock wall was absolutely exquisite. It was in black and white, but that had made the subject even more arresting. The curve of the heroine's leg as it wrapped around the protagonist's waist, the expression of pure bliss on young Junko's face, the perfect splay of her fingers across his back. That picture definitely said a lot more than 1,000 words. It was a treatise on sexual satisfaction. Kakashi redrew the picture in his mind's eye, relishing its every detail. Yes, certainly that was Jiraiya's masterpiece.

Most importantly, Jiraiya had left out the protagonist's face, which made it easy to replace him with a more suitable actor. Kakashi had spent countless hours imagining that very scene, a scene where a stunningly beautiful naïf gave herself to him, threw herself at him with abandon. She would be beautiful, but not in the conventional sense. She'd be a diamond in the rough, perhaps, a treasure that others overlooked. She would be someone who would come alive at his touch, like an earthen statue awakened to the world. She would be his alone, for him alone. She'd please him, oh, how she'd please him, and her cries of delight would--

"Your dinner, sir."

Kakashi frowned as his daydream blinked out without so much as a friendly wave goodbye first. He couldn't blame the waiter for bringing his dinner, however. The kitchen staff had waited long enough, and probably wanted to close the kitchen. He was surprised, in truth, that they'd waited as long as they did. At least an hour had elapsed since Izumi had left, perhaps more. He scanned the walls for a clock. It was easy to lose track of time when fantasizing. Kakashi smiled as perfectly cooked steak, accompanied by a medley of sautéed vegetables was placed before him. He nodded his thanks to the waiter, before picking up fork and serrated knife.

"The maitre d' asked me to tell you that your wife—"

Kakashi rolled his eyes. "She's not my wife. Try 'boss'."

The stocky, barrel-chested man visibly relaxed and gave him a conspiratorial smile. "My apologies. We assumed since you're quite a bit older than the last man she brought here…"

The copy ninja sighed inwardly. At least the waiter hadn't assumed he was Izumi's _father_.

"I'm married. Quite happily, in fact. So, does Izumi come here often?"

"Her father is the major investor in this hotel."

"Ah." So this _was_ her territory. No wonder the place had an intimidating feel to it. Kakashi noticed that the man had looked around him before speaking. Given that the room was deserted, it seemed he had nothing to worry about. But the sight of the oversized man looking over his shoulder was more than a bit amusing.

The copy-ninja cut a slice from his steak and marveled at its perfect, almost creamy texture. In all his travels he'd never had the opportunity to try the sake-fed, hand-massaged specialty of the Grass country. Funny that he'd had to come to Earth country to try it. He picked up a forkful of the accompanying vegetables and chewed thoughtfully. They were wonderful, as well, perfectly cooked to the point of caramelization. Absolutely delicious.

"Is everything to your satisfaction? The zucchini was grown on premises—"

Kakashi choked as a piece of the afore-mentioned vegetable slid down his windpipe.

Zucchini? Shit. How could he have forgotten?

"Sir? Sir?"

_Damn it._

Kakashi pounded his fist against his diaphragm, without success, and then stood to increase his leverage. He was grateful when the waiter's burly arms wrapped around him, expelling almost every milliliter of air from his lungs. The chunk of sautéed vegetable went flying across the room, just as Izumi entered.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Kakashi took a deep breath as he straightened up, and quickly stepped away from the oversized waiter. Izumi was clearly drunk. One didn't need to see the quarter-filled decanter clutched in one hand to make this determination. Her erratic walk gave her away, as well as her slightly slurred speech.

"_You_. Get back to work or I'll have you fired.'

Her eyes settled on Kakashi. "Don't tell me you're a homosexual."

"What?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Ha, ha! Just kidding."

"I was _choking_."

"I said I was kidding. Calm down." She flopped into her chair, and leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table, giving him a nearly unobstructed view of her cleavage. "Like the dress?" She giggled. "I had them open up the boutique for me."

"It's um, very nice." It was. The pale blue color of the garment perfectly set off the golden tone of her skin. She was gorgeous, no doubt about it. But it was strange that he found himself completely unattracted to her. Sure, her tits were nice. So were her legs. But appreciating the individual parts was quite different than appreciating the package as a whole. Something was missing, though he had no idea what.

This was confusing, as Izumi didn't differ much from the women he'd bedded in the past, apart from her considerably more expensive wardrobe. In fact, she was almost interchangeable with those women. So why was he so turned off? It wasn't the fact that he had no intention of sleeping with her. He'd sworn off sex on missions before. That had never affected his feelings of attraction, however. A beautiful woman was a beautiful woman after all, and it was completely normal for his hormones to inform him when he was in the presence of one.

Maybe middle age _was_ kicking in. But sexual urges were supposed to decrease _gradually_ as a man aged—they weren't supposed to disappear suddenly. He'd been perfectly fine, yesterday, hadn't he? Damn it. How had he become so decrepit? Thirty-seven wasn't that old. He was in his prime, actually. So why was his body behaving so strangely? Loss of sex drive. Problems remembering. Kakashi frowned as he considered his earlier memory lapse and the small chunk of sautéed zucchini that instantly restored the few moments of time lost the evening before. Sakura was probably burning him in effigy by now. Worse, he really couldn't blame her.

Maybe this was _her_ doing. Had Sakura put saltpeter in his breakfast? Or something worse? She hadn't eaten with him, now that he thought about it. No, she wouldn't be that hateful, although he certainly deserved some payback for the latest vegetable incident…

Izumi sighed loudly, engulfing Kakashi in a cloud of sweet, alcoholic fumes. What was she drinking? Brandy, he guessed, or some other western-style distillation. At least 40 percent in strength, by the smell of it. She'd consumed at least a liter of it, assuming the decanter was full at the start. He sincerely hoped she had no intention of lighting up a cigarette. She might immolate them both.

"I'm tired. Let's go back to the suite."

Kakashi wished that they'd gotten two separate rooms. He'd had no say in this, as he was a mere underling, and Izumi's presumptuousness in assuming they'd share quarters was a bit annoying, now that he considered it. While the suite was large, with separate bedrooms as well as an expansive, over-decorated living area, none of its doors, save the entrance, locked. He did not relish the thought of an inebriated Izumi crawling into his bed in the wee hours of the night.

"I'd like to finish dinner, if you don't mind." He said this as pleasantly as possible, in consideration of her ornery mood. It was more likely, however, that she'd have no memory of their conversation. She seemed close to the blackout stage, if he were reading things correctly. Sitting here for a while might sober her up just a bit, assuming he removed the decanter of alcohol. However, considering that one hand was gripping it tightly, this might prove a bit of a task. Oh, well, he decided. Let her black out. Maybe she'd spill some important secret before it happened.

"Fine. Eat." Izumi's eyes were half-closed, a sure indicator of extreme drunkenness.

"Join me?" What she needed was something starchy to soak up some of the alcohol. He pushed the bread basket her way.

"No. I'm not hungry anymore." She poured a brandy for herself, and watched, mesmerized, as it swirled in its glass. "You've got five minutes, army boy."

Kakashi tucked into his food, eager to eat as much as possible before retiring. After a long day of travel he was hungry, damn it, and he'd probably need the extra energy to fend off Izumi's advances. He quickly polished off the steak, completely avoiding the mixed vegetables he'd choked on earlier, and called it good. He grabbed a couple of slices of bread and shoved them in his pocket before helping her to her feet.

"So you own this place." She was definitely unsteady on her feet, so Kakashi didn't object when she draped her arm around him. It was clear she was in no condition to put the moves on him. Not for another few hours, at least, assuming she stopped drinking sometime soon.

"Who told you that?" She fell out of one shoe as she stumbled forward, then giggled.

"One of the staff." He supported her as she slipped the shoe back on, her giggles increasing as she did so.

"My dad does. But it will be mine, soon enough." She winked as she took a sip from the crystal decanter she carried, spilling the caramel beverage down the new silk dress as she did so. "Stupid Karai. It should rightfully go to him, you know. He's the first-born son, after all. Though not the first-born."

"Oh?"

"He has no desire to run the family business. His appetites are…elsewhere."

There was that smirk again, the funny smile he'd seen twice already tonight.

"So there's a lot of sibling rivalry between you two?"

"We compete over everything. Except business. He's left that to me. I showed him a long time ago." She smiled again. "But other than that, we're perfect rivals."

Kakashi wondered what she meant by that, but realized asking her would be useless. It was obvious that her attention had drifted.

"So. Are you glad you decided to join me?" She leaned against the lobby wall as they waited for the elevators doors to open. It was plushly upholstered, but thankfully there was no attendant to witness any come-ons on her part, or rebuffs on his.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He escorted her into the elevator, where it was impossible to put an appropriate amount of distance between them. She kept moving closer to him, as though she were made of steel, and he magnetite. He molded his chakra for a moment, then dispelled it, on the off chance that he'd somehow activated the magnetic field jutsu. It made no difference, he quickly noted.

"I'm sure your wife doesn't appreciate you being so far from home." Kakashi removed her hand from his chest as nonchalantly as possible. It wouldn't do to annoy her-- not when there was still so much to be learned about her business dealings. He'd walked the very fine line between humoring and servicing a client before, but it was always troublesome to do so.

"She understands."

"Oh. She's _understanding_. How nice for you."

"I'm happily married, Izumi. Very happily."

"So?"

"What do you mean, "So?""

She shrugged, tossing her hair back as she did so. "I mean, why should it matter if you're happily married?"

"It matters because we don't have an open marriage." Thankfully, the elevator doors parted at that moment. Kakashi took the opportunity to move forward quickly, and was surprised that the drunken Izumi was able to keep up with him. She bounded down the hall, shoes presumably forgotten in the elevator, to arrive at the door to their suite just before he did. She blocked his way, covering the keyhole with her curvaceous posterior.

"Silly. What I meant was, why should it matter to _me_? Why should _I_ care what your wife thinks? This is between you and me. She doesn't come into the picture at all." She raised the heavy decanter to her mouth, and smiled at him before wetting her lips with the amber colored beverage. "Admit it. You find me attractive. What's wrong with acting on that?"

_But I don't find you attractive_. Not that he could say that aloud.

Kakashi sighed. "Because I made a commitment. Because I love my wife. Because I love my son."

"Don't look at me like that. You men are all alike, aren't you? It's okay for a man to be a little wild and take what he wants. It's just sowing wild oats, right? But if a woman acts that way…"

"Not all men act that way."

"Bullshit." She moved aside slightly, and he took the opportunity to open the door and push past her.

He'd had enough, he decided. It was one thing to be harangued by Sakura in the comfort of their home. For one thing, every time she'd done so, he'd deserved it. But a dressing down in a public place from someone he barely knew was completely different.

"_I_ don't," he said as he headed to his quarters just off the main living area of the spacious suite.

"Bullshit again, Yuki-kun.

He hoped this might signal the end of their conversation, and was surprised when Izumi continued. She certainly was a loquacious drunk. He sighed before turning to face her.

"Even if you're not cheating _now_, you did once. Don't look so affronted. Of course you did-- you're too handsome to be faithful. You have the look of a cheater, the walk, everything. You may have been faithful to your wife _so far_, but there's no way you didn't screw around before the two of you met. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you didn't sleep with other men's wives."

Kakashi was silent. He knew nothing, he realized, of Yuki's habits before Sakura. He doubted the man got around much, considering that he was half-blind, but one never knew. Better to keep his mouth shut and appear cryptic than to say something that might come back to haunt him. He had no doubt that Izumi had assigned members of her staff to continue digging up dirt on Sakura and him.

"I'm right. I knew it." Izumi laughed again, her eyes sparking in the light cast by the table's single candle. "You've cheated before, and you'll cheat again. They all do. So why shouldn't I join in the fun?"

"You have a very cynical view of the world.'

"Not cynical." Izumi grabbed two glasses from a tray, and poured brandy for herself and Kakashi. "Practical. Realistic."

Kakashi was surprised by the taste of the beverage. Sadly, it did nothing for him— although it was quite alcoholic, it was too sweet, too fruity for his taste. He smirked to himself. It would be easy to keep from getting drunk if this was all that was served on their trip.

"I play to win, Yuki. I mean, Musashi. I take what I want, like all men do. And that's why I've risen so far."

_You're forgetting nepotism_. Kakashi smirked. Izumi's self-written narrative confirmed his earlier observations. She was beyond narcissistic, it seemed.

"I see. And you're not used to being turned down, are you?"

She laughed. "I don't give up easily. You'll see."

Izumi stood, quite wobbly on her bare feet, and unhooked the strap fastening her dress behind her neck. The loosened fabric slid down her front to reveal her perfectly shaped breasts. She directed a fairly smug look Kakashi's way, before releasing the single closure at her waist. The garment pooled at her ankles so that she stood before him, clad only in a pair of thong panties. Kakashi didn't avert his eyes. She certainly had a beautiful set of…attributes. Tits, ass, legs—she had it all. She was kunoichi-class, in fact. This was a body that was well-taken care of.

"Admit it. You like what you see." Izumi walked slowly into the oversized master bedroom she'd claimed for herself, beckoning to him to follow.

He stood stock still, apparently riveted to the plush carpet beneath him. Had any man ever turned this woman down? What would she do when she found out he was planning to be the first? She might fire him. Then where would the mission be? They'd been lucky to stumble into this trading ring. Now that they were in it, however, it wouldn't be possible to reinfiltrate it.

He hadn't counted on his quarry having such a large ego. Most women he'd been with, client, target and mere civilian, had been less sure of themselves. They were more eager to please, and easier to brush off. It wouldn't be that simple with Izumi. He was sure of it. She'd be ferocious once spurned.

"I'm waiting for you." Izumi's voice was a drunken sing song. "We have a lot to discuss." She giggled. "Lots and lots."

"Pour another drink. I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

Another giggle. "I'll be waiting."

Kakashi high-tailed it to his bedroom, threw his suitcase on the bed and dug through the backpack it contained. He'd been completely wrong about her drunkenness. Izumi might be inebriated, but it was now clear that she was no lightweight. She seemed nowhere near intoxicated enough to pass out. What's more, it was clear she wouldn't take no for an answer. What could he use to put her to sleep? The Sharingan was undoubtedly out of the question. To his dismay, he'd learned that certain types didn't respond to it. If she were one of these, his cover would be blown. And if that occurred, he'd have to do a quick and dirty salvage operation. That would be a shame, as there were still a lot of blanks to fill in.

There were certain holds that would cut off circulation and cause a person to black out, but these typically left a bruise. What was left? There were a number of drugs he'd learned of in his ANBU days, but none that were readily available to non-medic ninja. He dumped the pack onto his bed, and scanned its contents one more time. Then he smiled, delighted with what he saw. A small tin box had caught the light. It was labeled in Sakura's crisp, professional hand with a single character: "Medicine." He had no doubt of what he'd find inside.

"Arigatou, Sakura," he whispered aloud. She deserved a medal for this.

* * *

"Look what Dad left for me!" Tsuki ran up to Sakura, thin, hardbound book in hand.

Sakura frowned as she turned away from the dishes piled in the sink. She'd made an effort, earlier this morning to put her feelings aside, but the truth was she was still irked by Kakashi's behavior the previous night. At the moment, she had absolutely no desire to hear her son calling him "Dad," even as part of their cover. In fact, she was looking forward to a Kakashi-free week or two.

"Maybe he just forgot it last night, when he dropped off the pebbles you'd collected." All twenty kilograms of them.

"No, no! It's for me. Look, he wrote something inside for me."

Sakura accepted the book her son waved emphatically in front of her. It was the same book Kakashi had been reading the day they'd left the village—a kenjutsu guide, if she remembered correctly. The fact that he'd left it behind suggested that it was nowhere near as good reading as the _Icha, Icha_ book she'd given him earlier that morning. But that wasn't a surprise. He'd nearly teared up with joy when he'd opened the package. She wondered where he'd acquired _this_ book. She'd assumed the man read only pornography. In fact, it was strange that he'd even brought the book along with him. She thought she'd burned his entire collection.

Sakura turned to the book's flyleaf and struggled to decipher the words sloppily inscribed there. There was no doubt that this was the copy ninja's handwriting. Though nearly illegible, Kakashi's scrawl was quite recognizable.

"Work hard, Tsuki, and become the man I know you can be—Dad," she read aloud.

"See? If I read 11.25 pages a day, I'll be done by the time Dad gets home."

"Sweetheart… you know this is part of our being undercover, right?"

Tsuki studied her closely with a piercing, seemingly all-seeing gaze. The cool, mutable color of his eyes somehow made him seem older, and much wiser than his actual age. His eyes weren't bright and clear like the ones you'd expect to find on a young child, and despite his typically happy demeanor, they suggested something deeper lay just below the surface. As Tsuki certainly wasn't the typical young child, this shouldn't have been surprising, but her son's probing questions and sudden insights startled Sakura at times. She certainly hadn't thought the way he did when she was his age. She'd been far too busy with dolls and ribbons and the malady of poor self-esteem.

He hadn't answered her question, she noticed belatedly. His expression told her, however, that he was formulating several of his own. Hopefully they had nothing to do with last evening's impromptu "sparring" session. She had no desire to explain why her shirt had been half-open or why she had been panting with (_damn that Kakashi_) lust. Not that her son knew what lust was. Then again, maybe he did. The things Tsuki already knew frightened her.

"It was nice of him to give you this book, but you know he couldn't sign it 'Kakashi,' or 'Sensei', right? That might compromise the mission."

"Duh, Mom. I know that. He _said_ I should call him 'Dad.' I'm just following orders." Her son rolled his eyes in a fairly accurate imitation of a pre-teen. Tsuki sounded a lot like her former, twelve-year old self. She couldn't wait, she thought sarcastically, until he was _really_ that age. If he was a handful now, what would he be then?

Sakura reread Kakashi's words and pondered his intent. Ink had bled through the page facing Kakashi's inscription, she noticed. She turned the page, curious to find out whether Kakashi had written anything else to her son apart from these words that seemed so bland, even for one as uncommunicative as he.

"To my only son--Don't ever forget who you are, and for whom you study this art of the sword. Never forget those precious to you. In the end they are all we have." This was written in a crisp, precise hand. The date, thirty-three years prior, seemed oddly familiar. But no Konoha history factoid popped into her mind upon seeing it. With her peculiar skill at remembering such trivia, she would have retrieved any such link to the date, if one existed. But it wasn't the year that was gnawing at her, she realized. It was the day, September 15th, that seemed vaguely familiar.

She racked her brain for a moment. That must be Kakashi's birthday, she realized. He'd complained once, years ago, about no one remembering the date. The fact that he hadn't shared this vital piece of information with Team Kakashi was inconsequential. His teammates should have made it their business to know, he'd said. She and Naruto had laughed uproariously at this example of unmitigated narcissism. He'd never once remembered their birthdays, they'd argued. Why should they concern themselves with his? Their senpai had muttered something about disrespect for ones elders before going off to sulk in a tree with his favorite book. That had been in mid-September, she realized, a few weeks after the end-of-summer festival. The leaves hadn't turned yet, but the air had been quite cool at night. And they'd been wearing cloaks, she recalled. September 15th was about right.

This book must have been a birthday gift to Kakashi from his father.

She frowned again, displeased by the implications of this inference. The book was obviously special to him. And now it was Tsuki's. She bustled around the kitchen to hide the anger beginning to simmer under a very poorly-maintained façade.

"Want some lunch?"

"Yes! I'm starving. Homemade, though, right? I'm tired of bento." So was she. But she really didn't have time to work 12 hours a day, _and_ cook and clean. Though sometimes monotonous, boxed lunches were nutritious. And better still, they required no prep or clean-up. They weren't best source of B vitamins, true, but she was trying her best. She sighed. It was exhausting even to think about mothering. Her own mom had done so much better. Each morning Sakura found a lovingly prepared lunch waiting for her, with artfully trimmed carrot or daikon slices (grown in the back garden, of course) decorating the day's rice, and tiny, animal-shaped packets of shoyu to season the perfectly prepared egg or fish accompanying it. What's more, despite her civilian mother's full-time job, the house had always been immaculate, yet warm and inviting. There was no way she could ever live up to that standard. She didn't have it in her.

The kunoichi willed herself to think and act positively. "You bet, sweetheart. It's my day off-- we can do whatever you want today. So what are you hungry for?"

"Stir-fry." He was already rummaging in the refrigerator for ingredients.

Sakura smiled. How many kids got this excited over vegetables? "I don't think that will work. I think there's some tofu left and some eggs, but no veggies. I didn't do much shopping yesterday." Spending the better part of an hour looking for saury and prevaricating over beer had seen to that. At least Kakashi had appreciated the breakfast, however. He'd seemed genuinely pleased, though surprised by her actions.

"Yes, there are, Mom. Look." Tsuki pulled a paper sack from the vegetable crisper. Two fairly large green vegetables peeked out. "Zucchini."

_Zucchini_? She hadn't been to the greengrocer in days.

"There's writing. It says, 'In case you're tempted.'"

Sakura grabbed the bag from her son and read the words scrawled on it. Despite Kakashi's poor penmanship, there was no mistaking what was written.

_That bastard. That fucking sick, son of a—_

"Why does Dad think you'll be tempted? That's his writing, isn't it?"

"Oh. Um. My diet. Haven't you noticed I've put on a little weight?" She patted her stomach as she spoke, all the while searching for a way to change the subject.

Tsuki's brow furrowed. "You're not fat. And you don't even like candy…"

"How about I make you a sandwich, sweetheart? And then can you play quietly in your room for a little while? I need to lie down."

"Are you sick, Mom?"

"No. No, Tsuki. I… I suddenly have a splitting headache."

A red bean jam sandwich wasn't the healthiest lunch she'd ever served her son, but she just had to get out of that kitchen. Sakura wasn't sure whether she'd scream or cry, and now that she was alone in her bedroom, she felt an overwhelming urge to do both.

Why did she keep doing this to herself? Hadn't she learned that reaching out to the copy ninja was like extending a hand to a poisonous snake? Sakura clutched a pillow to her chest, buried her head in it and let out a muffled noise that was part roar and part sob.

Why did he have to be such a goddamn bastard?

Why did he have to remind her that he'd spied on her most private moments? Worse, why did he have to mock her?

That's what the kiss had been about the night before. It had been another subtle jibe. Perhaps he'd thought it too subtle for her. Hence the zucchini, a symbol she'd be sure to understand.

_Stop crying. Stop it._

But she couldn't. He'd changed so much. She was sure of it. The way he treated Tsuki, and the effort he put into training him indicated he'd grown from the shallow man that had been her teacher. He wasn't drinking, and she was sure she'd know if he was whoring around. In short, he'd changed in every way that mattered—except towards her.

And that was what hurt, she realized. She'd convinced herself, during their extended kiss, that he felt something towards her. She realized it might be nothing more than chauvinistic, misplaced jealousy, but even that was something. That implied there was something that might be nourished, eventually, into a friendship. It had given her hope that they might both have a relationship with her son, even if the relationship between adults was minimal. It was clear her son needed a man in his life, someone to nurture him through the rough, males-only parts of childhood, and Kakashi seemed up to the task. No, he seemed _eager_ to play the part of gardener, if not acknowledged father. She'd seen it in his eyes. The copy ninja was in love with Tsuki. But he felt nothing, absolutely nothing, towards her.

The lack of feelings—even negative feelings-- toward her was bad enough. Still worse was the other realization brought about by that kiss. Sakura had long known she harbored a continuing physical attraction for the man. He'd witnessed an intimate moment when she'd cried out his name, but that hadn't been the first time she'd done so. His image was the well-worn blow-up doll she dragged out when she wanted to fantasize. He was so perfect physically, so rugged, a personification of the ninja ideal. But physical attraction was all she felt, she'd told herself again and again. This had been a part of her fantasy ritual, in fact, a phrase she repeated to absolve herself of the shame she felt for wakefully dreaming about a man who'd betrayed her.

Now she knew she'd been fooling herself. She definitely had feelings for Kakashi, feelings she hadn't wanted to acknowledge. She wasn't certain of the extent of the attachment, but it certainly went beyond friendship.

This was humiliating. It was just like Sasuke all over again. Hadn't she matured in the past eleven years? Was she only attracted to men who hurt her?

Of course not. There was Yuki. But… Yuki had been different. It was almost as though he were a different species. He'd been kind, patient, and the perfect sounding board for concerns large and small. And he'd loved her, more than anyone had. But that wouldn't have been enough, had he lived. That was evident, now.

Sakura punched her pillow, and sent feathers flying from a newly formed tear. It didn't matter, ultimately, how she felt. She had a job to do. She needed to work through her anger, burn it off.

She needed to train, to push her body hard enough for exhaustion to set in. Maybe this was part of the problem, she realized. She was mentally exhausted after each long, patient-filled day, but a medic's work was far less physical than that of most kunoichi deployed to the field. She needed to push her body. A good, hard run would do the trick. But that was easier said than done. Residents of this village didn't run cross country, particularly with a son in tow.

Sakura opened her bedroom door, and smiled at the sight of her son, shinai in hand. He moved the weapon silently in a perfect arc. "Nine hundred thirty-five," she heard him whisper.

She smiled as she recognized a perfect solution to this immediate problem.

"Tsuki?" she asked. "Would you like to surprise Sensei?"

He smiled eagerly and bobbed his head vigorously.

"Grab a towel. Let's go check out the dojo."


	22. Chapter 22 Yasumi

**A Book of Five Rings**

_Author's note: I apologize for the extended amount of time it has taken me to get this chapter posted. I went back to work full time this month, and I am struggling to fit into my day the things I _really_ want to do, like work on this story. To make things worse, this chapter was in very poor shape when I sent it out to for beta reading/editing. Thank you to Candice and Roxanne for the first read throughs and to Portia for the massive amount of work she did in fixing its myriad problems. The chapter is definitely in better shape now than it was before! I really appreciate the efforts people have made—including the detailed reviews so many of you have left—to make me a better writer, and I have no intention of slowing down despite outside distractions._

_The good news is that this chapter is twice as long as usual! I hope you enjoy it._

**Chapter 22 – Yasumi**

The copy ninja was looking forward to sleeping in his own bed again. It was funny how a person could get so used to simple comforts. His own pillow made a difference, as did the warmth of his partner. He slept better around Sakura, he realized. Kakashi yawned and shifted slightly before settling back into the plushly upholstered seat of the carriage carrying them back to Grass. Izumi was in a mood, and had been for days. Luckily that meant she was less likely to strike up a conversation, which suited the copy ninja just fine. It left more time for napping. And daydreaming. Sans book of course, but that was for the best. His two-week _Icha, Icha_ vacation was about to end now that he was returning to Sakura and Tsuki.

Hopefully, they'd done alright without him.

He'd realized halfway through their two week trip that, of all the comforts of home, it was Sakura he most missed. He had no illusions about this now, although the awareness of this fact had crept up on him slowly. Kakashi had been surprised when he did realize he missed her, as he'd assumed that it would be Tsuki's absence he'd feel most strongly. While it was true that he thought often of his son during the day, his nighttime thoughts abandoned him. Kakashi had awoken after his second day in Earth country, a dream still vivid in his memory; one that excluded his son completely. The fantasy had focused on Sakura, as did his dreams for each successive night. His mind's narrator repeated itself nightly, although each viewing offered more details and greater length.

At first he'd thought the dream was a likely result of reading too much _Icha Icha_ fantasy the previous evening, as it had mimicked the imagery of that particular book. The nocturnal Sakura had come to him willingly, a small smile upon her cherry lips, and had stood before him, red satin kimono exposing porcelain shoulders and the velvety skin of her neck. She should wear her hair up more often, he'd mused to himself as he caressed the erogenous zone of her nape. She'd offered herself to him freely, bowing her head to allow him easier access to the body part most admired—and most eroticized-- in the geisha. He had found her willingness even more entrancing than the feel of her flesh.

His dream had ended there, but the next night, after reprising these events, Sakura had draped herself, naked like an erotic sacrifice, upon the altar of their bed, before anointing him intimately in a ritual he dearly wanted to repeat. It had been _their_ bed, he'd noticed immediately, their sparsely furnished bedroom above the clinic, smoke curling lazily above the two bodies interlocked in fierce lovemaking. She'd lit incense, its sweet smoke further marking their joining as blessed.

By the third night Kakashi had accepted how much he wanted her. He'd resisted the thought, at first, seeking any rational explanation for the continuing conformity of his dreams. After all, a few days with the control-hungry Izumi would make any other woman seem like a goddess. As Sakura, for better or worse, was the only other woman in his life right now, he'd blamed his nighttime fixation with the kunoichi to their normal, day-to-day proximity. Izumi certainly threw his otherwise blurry image of Sakura into high relief. She was everything that Sakura was not. But more importantly, Kakashi realized after a while, Sakura was everything that he wanted.

Funny. The pink-haired medic really wasn't his type, not when each of her attributes was carefully measured and considered objectively. She didn't have the long, flowing (and preferably blonde) hair he typically went for, and while her figure was as attractive as any kunoichi's, and superior to that of almost all civilian, it didn't arrest ones interest at first glance, or overwhelm one with its obvious sexuality. She didn't advertise her wares, as so many did—Kakashi couldn't imagine her in the sleazy, overtly sexual clothes his companions typically favored. She was more subtle than that. And while Sakura was pretty, she wasn't a knockout. Her features were a little too sharp, he realized as he summoned a picture of her from his memory, her expressions too often uncensored. Added to that was her newly developed taste for sarcasm. That alone would be enough to deflate most men's hopes.

But not his. He'd admitted to himself in the past few days that he actually liked the fact that she harangued him at times. He enjoyed it when they argued-- it showed they were both passionate. And she had every right to speak sharply to him where there child was involved because she only had Tsuki's best interests at heart.

Kakashi snickered softly to himself, though not loudly enough to catch Izumi's attention. She was still immersed in some summary of accounts that she'd deemed him unworthy of perusing. Kakashi smirked. He'd looked through all of her documents multiple times over the past week, even daring to remove his contact lens to memorize each page with the Sharingan. Ironically, he probably remembered more of the details than she did.

The mirror wheel ninja glanced out of the window as the carriage rolled along. He recognized the scenery. It had been some time since they'd passed the forest of massive, century-old bamboo that formed the common border between Earth and Grass no kuni. Soon they'd be coming to the oak grove he remembered from his youth. He wondered if the mushrooms there were as large as he remembered. This certainly was the way to travel—free of the swarms of blackflies and mosquitoes this area was known for. He did wish the vehicle was a bit larger, however. A coupe was a bit too small, given his height. His legs were tucked around him almost like a grasshopper. It was certainly ungainly, but that posture was preferable to constantly bumping his feet against Izumi. That might give her ideas. He did his best to keep to himself as he shifted in his seat.

_Passionate_. That wasn't a word he'd ever used to describe himself before. He'd always considered himself stoic, aloof, even repressed at times. He didn't argue—there was no point in heated discussions. He'd never felt the need to win an argument on principle. What did he care what others thought of him? But Sakura brought something out in him, something he quite enjoyed feeling. Sparring verbally with her was like sparring physically—it brought both emotional release and an endorphin high.

Riling her up was amusing. What's more, it riled him up too. It brought him pleasure to see her angry, precisely because it showed he was capable of doing so—of eliciting a powerful, passionate response from her.

He was well aware, however, that he'd probably gone too far this last time. It really hadn't been intentional on his part. Well, he _had_ intended for her to find the zucchini so conveniently labeled with a well-thought out barb, just as he intentionally had crept into a neighbor's yard to steal the green fruit. But that was well before she'd made him a wonderful breakfast, and directly after she'd doused him with beer. It had seemed appropriate payback at that time, just another bout in their on-again, off-again sparring.

Damn his memory. He would have pitched the offending veggies before leaving, if only he'd remembered. It was never a good idea to reward an unsolicited act of kindness with snark. Well, hopefully Pakkun had seen to things. The pug had been none too pleased to be sent on an errand as personal in nature as making amends for Kakashi's mistakes. The fact that Kakashi was unwilling to divulge the exact nature of the mistake had made things worse. The small dog had gone to the trouble, in fact, of reciting line and verse from the summons handbook. "Ninken and _all_ summonses were to be used for official business only," Pakkun had intoned in an age-weary voice. Kakashi was almost surprised that the dog didn't whip out the book on the spot. Of course, a lack of opposable thumbs had seen to that. An offer of a good belly scratch hadn't improved the dog's attitude either. Of course, Pakkun was far too old and experienced to be swayed by such things. It might have worked on Bisuke but he probably would have gotten lost and ended up in Sand. Or Mizu. If nothing else, Pakkun had an awesome sense of direction, and despite his short legs, could run extended distances quite quickly.

Kakashi decided that he would have to take Sakura to dinner once he got back and had a chance to settle in. No, perhaps he should plan another picnic to make up for the one he ruined. _They ruined_, he corrected himself. Not that he would mention that fairly obvious fact to her. Another picnic under the willow would be the perfect opportunity to debrief, away from the potentially prying eyes and ears of Katayama-sensei.

He certainly had a lot to tell her. He and Izumi had visited all three of the Earth country's major cities, and though they did not enter its hidden village, they had met with several ninja from its council of elders. Interestingly, the hidden village was unaware of their dealings with the civilian cities of Earth, and vice versa. Izumi's group seemed to be fairly run of the mill arms traders, with no ideology dictating their sales-making decisions. They sold to anyone who wanted weapons, even if that meant supplying both sides of an impending conflict.

Izumi had laughed when he'd broached the subject. What difference did it make to her family's business or to Mizu if the other great shinobi nations destroyed themselves? Her home country had long been devoted to trade—it defined them as a nation. These trade deals were no different in essence from any other, though they might be more deadly. The good thing about weapons trading, she'd pointed out with a giggle, was that it tended to escalate over time, as rivals discovered just how well their opponents were armored.

Kakashi directed his attention at the subject of his thoughts, who was now scrawling notes in a leather bound book. She'd found some imbalance, no doubt, in the types of weaponry sold to each city. He was sure she'd make an effort to even things out, so the arms race could continue.

Earth was fully weaponized at this point, or about to be, as the newest shipments had been ordered but, to Kakashi's knowledge, not created. Wind country was next on the list. Then lightning. To his knowledge, the civilian cities of Fire country had not yet been approached. Whether this was by design or not, he still had no idea.

Where were the weapons being created? Not Mizu, surely. Large shipments would likely have been noticed by customs agents, assuming they hadn't all been paid off. Most imports flowed through Fire, as well. He doubted all of their ports had been corrupted. If they had, surely a black market in weapons trading would be taking place in at least some of Fire's cities. But intelligence showed that this wasn't the case.

The carrier hawk he met the first night of their trip had carried an encoded update on the weapons situation in Konoha. More shinobi were showing signs of wounding from these new, shatter-on-impact weapons. Sadly, a few had required amputation.

The sooner they brought an end to this trade ring, the better. Limb was just as important as life to most shinobi—prosthetics were crude and fairly useless in war, even in covert operations. Continued use of these crippling weapons would lead to a rapid attrition in the ranks of Konoha's ninja. Kakashi wasn't yet ready to shut down the ring, however. He still did not know its constituent players, or its leaders, apart from Izumi. He assumed her father was involved, most likely in the capacity of owner or president of the business, but it was probable that there were high ranking employees placed in every hidden village, as well as in most of the major civilian cities. It was a common practice for shinobi villages to use sleepers in addition to operatives for intelligence gathering. Although this business was run with a slightly different objective, it was likely that its practices would be similar. The key would be to take down all of them at once so that the ring couldn't be rebuilt. Destruction of their assets and capital would also be useful, though more difficult to accomplish.

Kakashi's role this week had therefore been to find out as much as possible about these players. Unfortunately, the copy nin hadn't been privy to most of the meetings that had taken place. He'd sat in on the first few, but several clients had tacitly expressed discomfort with the stranger in their midst. As a result, he'd had most afternoons to himself. This hadn't stopped him, however, from listening in. He'd been banished from the suite, so simply listening from his bedroom had not been possible. Fortunately, a suite just above or next to theirs had been empty in each hotel. It was a simple matter of _henge_ no jutsu to gain access to keys to these rooms. Once inside, a seal on the door prevented any surprise interruptions, and his keen hearing and an empty water glass had allowed him to catch most of the conversations that took place nearby.

Izumi had wowed her clients, plying them not only with food and drink, but with other forms of entertainment. Not surprisingly, all of the clients were men. Earth was not known for its women's movement—in fact, he was fairly certain he'd never seen a female Earth shinobi. The same was true for its civilians. Under its patriarchal traditions, women were relegated to the mundane roles of office ladies and mothers, neither likely to be invited on a business trip. For this reason, Izumi had supplied a selection of "entertainers," both male and female, at the end of each day. Kakashi wasn't at all surprised to find that she often claimed one of the men for herself. She had coped well with the copy ninja's unstated rejection of her—she typically was still with the "entertainer" when Kakashi returned to the room hours later. He was thankful to have the buffer of an oversized living area between their two rooms.

He hadn't needed to use the "medicine" Sakura had so thoughtfully placed in his kit—not on the first night, anyway. Kakashi had returned to Izumi's room, small glassine packet secreted in his hand, with the hope that he'd be able to divert her attention long enough to pour the powder into the decanter. He needn't have worried, however. She was out cold when he got there. He flipped her onto her stomach, and turned her head sideways before leaving the room. It wouldn't do for her to asphyxiate in her sleep, not at this stage of the mission. He decided against the kindness of a glass of water and two aspirins on her bedside table. It might give her ideas.

Kakashi was awoken the next morning, the first of his many tantalizing dreams of Sakura still vivid in his mind, by the sound of retching. Izumi apparently had made it through the night. Hopefully she was reconsidering some of her actions from the night before. Drinking two liters of hard liquor was far too much for a person of her size. The copy ninja wondered how many of her mornings started this way. He could certainly relate to the ritual, having spent many early hours kneeling in the bathroom, forehead resting against cool, soothing porcelain that he might have otherwise considered less than sanitary. But even he had outgrown this aspect of alcoholism. Through years of trial and error, Kakashi had learned exactly how much he needed to drink to kill the feelings of uselessness. Although early on he'd awoken a few times in a back alley or other indiscreet location, he'd quickly realized such an overt display of drunkenness was unacceptable, assuming he wanted to remain a ninja.

Izumi wasn't that much younger than him—the fine wrinkles around her eyes and mouth suggested she was in her early thirties. Hadn't she learned the simplest rules of Alcoholism 101? Maybe she just didn't care. Or maybe she'd only recently started drinking. But, given her extremely high tolerance, this didn't seem likely.

Eventually Kakashi did have occasion to use the sleeping powder Sakura had provided. A male escort was not supplied every night of their trip, particularly on traveling days, and Kakashi wanted to make sure he wouldn't have to reject Izumi outright. She didn't seem any the worse for the medication. She was grumpy when she awoke, but she seemed to be grumpy every morning anyway. This was probably another sign of her addiction-- Kakashi knew that he was not that pleasant to be around when coming off a bender.

Izumi had surprised him, however. After his third or fourth consecutive dream of Sakura, Kakashi awoke with a rather pressing need. On hindsight, it was clear that he should have sealed the door—once again the garish rooms they'd been assigned boasted no locks—but as Izumi had left him alone so far on the trip, he really didn't feel it was necessary. He rose from the bed and headed towards his bathroom and the extra layer of privacy it would afford, but not before grabbing Sakura's tank top and shorts from his suitcase. Or rather, Yuki's. But that was immaterial,. They smelled of _Sakura_, and at that moment he wanted to relive the details of a dream that was quickly fading from his consciousness. Her fragrance was a necessary ingredient. He crumpled the knit shirt and boxers to his face and inhaled deeply, a smile of satisfaction growing on his lips as his morning erection grew into a pounding, insistent force.

"Why are you smelling your… underwear?"

Shit. When had Izumi entered the room? She had a curious, though half disgusted look on her face, which grew in intensity as he blurted out the first reply that sprang to mind.

"Oh. They're not mine." The shorts fell from his grasp as he spoke, though thankfully, the shirt remained clutched in his hands, its Waterfall seal serendipitously hidden from view.

"Really." Izumi lifted an eyebrow as she glanced from the boxers on the ground to the boxers he wore. This really wasn't the best time to be sporting a hard-on, the detached observer within him noted.

"They're my wife's," he said by way of explanation, although as soon as he said it, he recognized how lame the words must sound.

Izumi giggled. "So your wife's a cross dresser? How…interesting."

"Did you need something?" He had no patience for this—not at seven in the morning. Why was she up at this hour anyway?

"No. Never mind. I can see that you're busy." She quickly exited, and he was sure he heard her mutter something along the lines of "This explains a lot," as she turned the corner.

He was glad this little journey was about to end. It was exhausting to be near Izumi for extended periods—he had to be on his guard at all times. She probably would have driven him crazy if not for the closed door client meetings. He had no doubt that another trip was on the horizon—she'd mentioned something about Wind country that morning. Perhaps he should ask Sakura for something to take the edge off. Given her immense knowledge of herbs and medicines, certainly she knew of something nonaddictive that might make interacting with Izumi more bearable.

Sakura. He was certainly looking forward to seeing her again, assuming his peace offering had soothed her inevitable rage. And Tsuki—how had he fared the past two weeks? Had he enjoyed the gift? The copy ninja smiled at the thought of his son opening the small package he sent along with Pakkun. Hopefully, he'd been surprised and pleased. Actually, Kakashi had no doubt of this—his son was skilled at finding pleasure in even the smallest experiences. Kakashi looked forward to teaching kenjutsu to the boy. He'd learned so much from his own father this way. Even if he couldn't acknowledge his relationship with Tsuki, he realized he was eager to pass on the lessons his own father had instilled in him—lessons of honor, diligence and trust. These were things that had shaped him greatly, though it had taken years for him to realize this. He hoped Tsuki would have his own Obito—someone to bring him down a notch, when needed, and share with him the plain unadulterated truth. It was funny how the most irritating people were often the most useful in that regard. This wasn't something a father or even a sensei could do: the difference in status was too great. Had Tsuki made any friends in Grass yet? He was probably lonely.

"I said, 'We're here.' Didn't you notice the carriage had stopped?"

So soon? Kakashi smiled at Izumi who was still he noticed, in a sour mood. He, however, felt great. He was barely tired from the journey and eager to see his family, even despite the fact that they didn't claim him as such.

"Tomorrow at eight. We need to debrief Karai," a snort punctuated her statement, "and get things ready for the next trip."

Kakashi grabbed the elegant suitcase Izumi had provided earlier and loped down the dusty road leading to the village. Izumi, of course had ordered the driver to stop at the daimyou's compound. The copy ninja didn't mind the walk back into town, however. The day was lovely—warm, but not as hot as you'd expect for this time of year, and far less so than it had been in Earth. Kakashi relished the opportunity to stretch his legs after being cramped up for so long in what was little more than a windowed closet on wheels. He pulled his book out of his pocket, secure in his belief that no one would notice on the rather desolate road that led back from the compound to the village. Still, he should make a cover for the book, as its bright cover did tend to attract attention. Maybe Tsuki would design one for him this weekend.

He closed the book as he neared the village gates, and smiled when he saw the families dotting the meadow just outside the village walls. It really was a good day for a picnic—maybe he could talk Sakura and Tsuki into one when he got home. Some groups were dressed for the weather, he saw—lots of skin was on display, though, to his regret, he saw no skimpy bikinis. Just the usual shorts, tees and halter tops. Oversized wagasa-style umbrellas marked off familial territories, like bright, jubilant flowers blooming from the large expanse of green. The entire village seemed to be enjoying the slightly cooler than usual weather—children ran like dizzy bumblebees from blanket to blanket and parents lazed in the shade. Kakashi looked forward to joining them—on a blanket off to the side, of course, where he'd have a bit of peace and quiet, not to mention privacy.

The copy ninja scanned the group as he scoped out a place to set up camp. A large white sunhat caught his eye, its brightness contrasting perfectly with the deep red, sleeveless dress its owner wore. There was someone prepared for the weather—though it was relatively cool outside and clouds covered a portion of the otherwise clear blue sky, a sunburn would be likely for those who were less melanin-blessed. He wondered about the wearer of such a bold, yet romantic hat. A hat that big would look ridiculous on many. Though he waited patiently for her to turn in his direction, he wasn't rewarded with a view of her face and concomitant insight into her persona. That probably didn't matter—he was too far away to make out any of the facial features of the group, let alone the meaning of their expressions. Perhaps if his Sharingan eye were uncovered he'd be able to tell, but Kakashi wasn't willing to risk the bright red eye being spotted by a passerby.

The woman and her family seemed to be having a great time. She was gesticulating wildly—telling a joke, perhaps-- as a baseball-capped boy buzzed from their blanket to others in the vicinity and back again. The man accompanying them seemed relaxed, if his posture were any indication. It was clear he was a man, despite the long ponytail he wore, and the loss of details due to distance. He was half-sprawled across the blanket in an extremely masculine pose, seeming to own the territory it defined.

Kakashi watched with intrigue as a feeling of deja-vu crept across his consciousness. Somehow, this halcyon scene seemed familiar. It was as though he'd been in this very field before, and felt the emotions he experienced now. But there were no Icha, Icha scenes like this—he was sure of it. No Icha, Icha stories involved children, for one thing. For another, the scene was too tame, too familial. And Kakashi had never picnicked like this, obviously. He'd never been married, nor had he ever had the type of girlfriend one could take on a picnic. Or even greet publicly.

He had done this, though. Kakashi suddenly realized the source of this feeling—Boys' Day, many, many years ago. His father had taken a rare break from a schedule crowded with missions, and they'd spent the morning together building two carp windsocks to hang outside of their home in celebration of their masculinity. His father's fish was large and black, while Kakashi's was smaller and a bright, intense red. His mother had giggled that it clashed with the dress she'd chosen for the occasion—a flowing green-grey one that matched her eyes perfectly. She'd worn a hat, too, an oversized, floppy hat with a long sash that trailed behind her. Kakashi had been jealous of his dad at that moment, as jealous of their marriage as only a small child could be. But those feelings had dissipated when his father scooped him up to carry him on his broad shoulders.

A glorious day had followed. Funny how he had forgotten it until now. Memories of that afternoon came flooding back. They'd picnicked on the banks of the river, a large bamboo and paper umbrella shielding his mother's pale skin, while he and his father played catch and explored the river bank.

No wonder the display before him was affecting him so.

Kakashi shrugged as he forced himself to turn away from this idyll and the vivid memory it triggered. Why should he bother looking vicariously on some scene he could create for himself? He stowed his book and picked up his pace. The day really was too glorious to waste by oneself. Luckily, the clinic was close by, and hopefully, Katayama-sensei could be talked into letting her sole employee leave early for the day. He was hopeful, as he entered the street and saw that it was more quiet than usual. That meant there was a better a chance of releasing Sakura from her duties. On some days, the line went out the door and patients waited their turn while sitting on rickety wood folding chairs. Not today, however. Business seemed slow, almost dead.

Kakashi walked up to the front door and tried the handle. It was locked, but the windows were unshuttered. Then he saw the small yellow placard placed against one pane. "Yasumi" was the only word inscribed upon it. The ink was slightly faded, as though the card either had been reused, or had been hanging for several days.

Vacation? He'd been under the impression that Katayama-sensei never rested. Perhaps Sakura had talked her into it. Kakashi smiled. It was just like Sakura to talk her boss into such an action. Kakashi walked around to the back entrance and tried that door. It too, was locked, but a quick, surreptitious hand seal and a few whispered words were enough to reset the tumblers to their unlocked positions.

No one answered when he called out, and he felt no human-sized chakra signatures either on the first floor, or on the second. It was obvious his apartment was empty, and for a moment he worried that Sakura might have left him. He was reassured, however, when Susu met him at the door. The small cat normally didn't greet Kakashi—he chose to act as a puppy around Tsuki, following the child closely everywhere he went. The fact that the kitten was at the door meant his son wasn't around, of course, but it also meant he and his mother hadn't left town. Kakashi released the breath he'd held as he opened the door, then dropped his bag by the entrance. He should check the rest of the place out, just to be sure.

The copy nin smiled as he entered his son's room. Tsuki had arranged the many stones he'd collected—one for each hour of Kakashi's absence-- into a meandering image of a serpent. Only a tiny pile remained apart from his creation. The boy had even sorted the stones by size and color to better represent the reptile's scales. Kakashi gingerly stepped over the artwork and picked up a package that lay on the bed. The box's lid had been thrown aside, and its contents were missing, but he found tags underneath its layers of tissue. A mitt, a baseball and a cap. Interesting.

Kakashi pushed the box aside and lay id down on his son's bed for a moment to ponder the gift's source. This couldn't be from Katayama-sensei, could it? No, the box was labeled with the name of a very expensive department store on the border of Grass and Earth countries. He knew this because Izumi had insisted on stopping there on their return trip. There was no way the healer could have made her way to that part of the country without chartering a carriage. Her leg would not have been up to the ten-hour walk, and it didn't seem the country medic had the large amount of money needed to rent such a vehicle. And certainly it wasn't from Sakura. She wouldn't have left town—not while on a mission.

It wasn't Tsuki's birthday—Kakashi was sure of that. That date had been burned into his memory on day one of their relationship, when he'd first perused the boy's file. So, who…_Karai_? The copy ninja bolted upright for a moment, then fell back onto the pillow, jarring his head against something as he did so. He grimaced, then laughed as he pulled out and recognized a medium-sized rock. It was the geode he'd sent Tsuki late the previous week. He had to smile at the idea of the boy sleeping with the hard, rough object. His son had done a good job separating it into halves. Perhaps Sakura had helped. He smiled. She could have done it bare-handed—her application of chakra was that precise..

But he had obviously been right about Karai putting the moves on Sakura—why else would a man buy gifts for a woman? Kakashi's fists clenched unconsciously as he left the room and walked briskly toward the one he shared with Sakura. So she had she decided it was okay to spend time with Karai? He should have seen that coming, he realized. She'd probably done it out of spite, or as a response to his little practical joke. The gift Kakashi had sent her as apology obviously had not made much of an impression. It still sat in the small box, dwarfed by a larger, cylindrical box that he'd never seen before. Kakashi tightened his jaw as he noted the same seal on this box as the one in Tsuki's room. This box was also empty, apart from a few crumpled sheets of tissue paper.

Kakashi's mind flashed to the trio he'd seen in the park. A boy, a man with a long, blond ponytail, and a woman in a wide-brimmed hat. What was Karai doing with _his_ family? He could be wrong, of course. The group had been some distance away, and Kakashi was unable to make out details. But that did not stop the technical specialist from bounding out of the apartment and down the stairs. Certainly the cozy little group wouldn't mind a visit from the man of the family.

* * *

What a lovely two weeks it had been, Sakura thought as she changed into gi and hakama, then stuffed her street clothes into one of many empty lockers and hung hat on a nearby hook. She had been astonished, midway through the first week of Kakashi's absence, to hear about Katayama sensei's impending holiday, but it had been a pleasant surprise. The thought of a several consecutive days completely devoid of work had been almost as relaxing as the actual experience of lazing in bed each morning and planning out a day filled with recreation.

Tsuki was thrilled to see so much of her over the past week, and peppered her with suggestions on how they might fill their time. He read the entire book Kakashi had given him by day five of his teacher's absence, and was eager to learn enough kendo to impress Kakashi upon his return.

Therefore, a good part of each day was spent at the dojo, and Sakura decided that she might as well learn some new skills, as long as she was there. It was hard to get all the exercise she needed to stay in top condition, as nobody in the village seemed to train their bodies. Well, none of the women, anyway. There were only a few females at the dojo, most of them children, but training was coed, and strictly by ability, as were spars. Gender didn't seem to be an issue in kendo, as a smaller figure could often outmaneuver a larger, heavier one. This didn't stop small acts of sexism on the dojo's part, however. Sakura had been surprised to learn that the uniform for women differed from the men's. It was white, not indigo blue. Therefore the women stood out clearly, even when bundled into the heavy armor all kendoka wore.

The only good thing about her gender in relation to kendo was the relative emptiness of the locker room each time she visited. As few female were in training, she usually had the place to herself. This pleased her, as she'd always hated undressing in front of others. Even the common experience of entering the public baths was unpleasant—she always felt she was being rated, whether the patrons were her age, younger, or older. Ino had always laughed at her friend's behavior: Sakura typically rushed to the nearest toilet stall or private shower to get washed up and undressed. Now, despite the emptiness of the dojo's locker room, she maintained this behavior. As far as neuroses went, this one was small, she rationalized.

Karai also spent a good deal of time at the dojo. Sakura was surprised by this, as she assumed he had work to do at the compound. Apparently, however, he was dispensable. That only proved the point she'd made to Kakashi. The man obviously had little to do with the weapons trading ring they were investigating.

It was equally obvious to her that he was a source worth cultivating. She didn't object, therefore, when he offered to give her lessons. Other students had grumbled at this, as he was one of the higher ranked sempai. But he ignored them, taking her to the side of the large, plank-floored room where the children practiced. She spent most of each session with Karai on this side of the room, hidden from the more accomplished trainers by a large curtain that ran down the center. Each day, though, in the last half-hour of training, the new students were allowed to watch their seniors spar with each other. She and Tsuki sat silently as they watched short battles between kendoka far more skilled than they.

Karai was among the best of these. Though kendoka didn't wear signs of their ranking on their uniform, it was clear he was at least 7-dan. The dojo head, she knew, was 8-dan, and Karai seemed almost as proficient as he. Sakura had smiled when Karai noticed how skilled her son was at the moves he'd learned. Tsuki was a natural, it seemed, though it was clear that his physical talent hadn't come from her. He'd soon be joining the older kendoka on the other side of the curtain, while she labored along on the basics.

They were spending so much time together that she didn't object when Karai sat down beside them on the dojo steps, bento box in hand. Nor did she object when he offered to take them to a matinee at the town's sole movie theater. Getting to know one's target involved such things, and to refuse him might set off warning bells.

Besides, he wasn't sending out overt signals of interest. He seemed a bit lonely, in fact. And even if he did try to flirt with her, it would be nothing that she couldn't handle. In fact, her skills in that area were so rusty that it probably would be an excellent idea to get them polished again. Karai was obviously not a candidate for a relationship, as he was a target after all. But she probably could learn a few things from him about relating to the opposite sex. She'd never been very successful at that, apart from Yuki. Sure, she knew the theory—she knew that licking ones lips slightly, repeatedly touching ones hair, and mirroring body language were sure fire ways to signal ones interest, but putting such things into practice had always been problematic. She always seemed wooden, almost mechanical.

So today, when Karai had stopped by their apartment early—so early in fact that she was in the midst of fixing breakfast, she didn't turn down his offer of lunch in the park before they went to practice. And she didn't regret this either, though she was surprised when he showed up with presents for each of them. She probably should have said, "No." A married woman shouldn't be accepting gifts from near-strangers of the opposite sex, but the way he'd looked at her had clinched it. She had the feeling accepting the gift would be a great favor to him, something small she could do to bring him happiness. Of course, Tsuki was thrilled to get his gift, putting the cap on immediately, then pestering Karai for lessons in playing catch.

She couldn't stay alone forever. That and a new understanding about Kakashi had been her major lessons for the past two weeks. For two days after Kakashi left, Sakura had struggled to let go of the hurt she felt. Chopping the zucchini into julienne fragments hadn't helped. Nor had using a mortar and pestle to pulverize the tiny bits. It had taken Pakkun to fully relieve these feelings.

He appeared in her backyard midweek, well after Tsuki was asleep, and long after the sun had gone down. Sakura was dressed for bed—well, barely dressed, as she couldn't find her single set of nightclothes. She'd looked everywhere for them—under the bed, amongst the dirty laundry, through the stacks of clean laundry which had not been put away—to no avail. She had eventually settled for wrapping herself in a thin summer kimono while she cleaned up the day's messes and got ready for bed. She'd sleep naked, as she preferred, door secured against mid-night visits from her son.

Then she heard her name called through the half-open window. It was a low, gravely pitch—so low, she'd barely heard it. When she peered out the window she saw no person outside, just the small silhouette of what seemed to be a short-legged cat. No, not a cat. She heard a bark, next, then saw a bright patch of light as a lamp in the downstairs apartment was turned on.

Fastening her robe more securely, she hurried downstairs, having belatedly realized who her visitor was. As quickly as possible she ran outside and bundled the small dog into her arms, turning his hitae-ate around just before Katayama-sensei opened her back door and peered into the night.

"Sakura? Is that you? I thought I heard someone calling your name."

"No, sensei. There's just a stray dog here. Maybe you heard him calling."

"A stray?" The woman moved forward, noticing the tape wrapped around Pakkun's front paws.

"A pug? And he's injured. No wonder he was howling. Oh, bring him inside, and I'll take a look at him."

"No, let me. You look so tired, sensei." Sakura smiled her most winning smile, and the elder medic relented.

"Well, let me know if you need any help."

Sakura slumped in relief as her sensei shut and bolted her door, and then hurried upstairs, dog wriggling to escape her grasp. She smirked. Apparently Pakkun didn't relish being carried like a puppy.

"Since when do you go into civilian areas wearing your uniform?" she hissed before they made it to the door.

Pakkun showed a bit more restraint than her, waiting until they were safely in the apartment, door locked, before responding.

"I didn't think I'd have to call your name for fifteen minutes, missy. You should get your hearing checked."

"My hearing is perfectly fine. And don't call me 'missy."'

He shrugged, which surprised her, as she'd never seen a dog do so before. Sakura was pretty sure he muttered "Humans," next, but as he was turned away, she couldn't sure of it. She had some choice rejoinders ready, something along the lines of "My hearing may not be as good as a dog's, but at least I don't lick my own butt," but she held back. He was obviously there for a reason.

"There's something for you downstairs. I tried to tell you, but as you had a death grip on me—"

"Sorry, but I was afraid Sensei would open the door and see your…cape." She couldn't help rolling her eyes as she said this, and had decided she didn't care that her words raised his hackles. Why on earth would a ninken wear a cape? Was he a detective in his other life? Or a flamboyant musician? True, a woolen cape was standard winter issue for shinobi, but there was no way such a garment wouldn't wrap around a dog's legs and trip him up.

"It's common courtesy to offer your guests a drink, you know." A slight growl underlined each word.

"Oh! Sorry. Let me get you a glass, er… bowl?"

"A bowl will be great. Could you put in some ice?"

"Sure." Sakura quickly brought him a drink and a plate full of chopped leftover from that night's dinners. "I thought you might be hungry. I'll just go down and get whatever it is you brought."

She returned quickly, and had done her best to hide the feeling of distaste she experienced upon picking up the bundle that was damp with what was most likely spit. That made sense—how else would Pakkun have carried it? Obviously he'd journeyed a long way—presumably from Kakashi's location somewhere in Earth. She shouldn't let her annoyance with the copy ninja taint her interaction with his minion. It wasn't the dog's fault, after all, that he'd been saddled with the likes of his master.

She set the bundle on the table and smiled when she noticed Pakkun devouring his meal.

"Go ahead and open it," he said between gulps.

Two objects were nestled inside the rather slimy furoshiki—a small wooden box, and a round object wrapped in a second cloth.

"The geode's for your son. The other thing is for you."

Sakura picked up the box and lifted its hinged lid. On a bed of cotton wool lay a jade bangle bracelet. Hadn't she read somewhere that Earth was known for the quality of its jade? She picked up the bracelet and slipped it on for a moment. It was inlaid with what she assumed was pink gold, with thin, delicate branches adorned by five-petaled flowers. Sakura. It was a lovely gift, she admitted to herself begrudgingly. Apparently the copy ninja felt some guilt over his last present.

"Is there a message?"

Pakkun looked up from the bowl he had just wiped clean, licked his lips and said "Gouchisousama deshita," before lapping up the remaining liquid in his water bowl.

"Not much of one, I'm afraid," he continued. "Kakashi wouldn't tell me what the transgression was. He only said to say he was sorry, that he hadn't meant for you to find whatever it was you found. It was a poorly thought-out joke. Does any of that make any sense?"

Sakura nodded.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"Do you really want to know, Pakkun? Aren't you afraid of tarnishing your image of your master?"

Pakkun laughed then, a barking, wheezing noise that was completely unexpected.

"Even dogs have critical thinking skills, Sakura. Do you think I've been blind to Sempai's decay over the past 20 years?"

Sakura blinked in amazement. She knew the dog could be blunt, but hadn't thought such honesty would apply to his relationship with Kakashi.

"Twenty years?"

"Since he lost his teammates. That's when things began to unravel. During the great ninja wars. He lost them in Earth country. I was surprised to see him back there, in fact. He's always turned down recon missions there in the past."

"What happened?"

"He took on his first leadership role and failed miserably. He realized his mistake and made the best of it, but in the aftermath his teammate and best friend died. The other one died a few weeks later. That one was not at all his fault, but he took it badly. Something changed in him, but it happened slowly."

Pakkun paused, causing Sakura to wonder if he was considering whether or not to continue with the story.

"Would you like dessert? Cake, maybe?" She left the room without waiting for a response. One thing she had learned in kunoichi classes was that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. She was certain canine males fit this adage, too.

Pakkun smiled when she returned bearing a large slice of vanilla frosted cake. "You're a great cook. Much better than Kakashi, anyway. You wouldn't believe the slop he used to feed me."

"Oh?"

"He was under the impression that dogs should eat only raw food. I, for one, prefer my vegetables cooked and my meat medium to well done. I'm surprised he didn't give me worms." The dog licked the frosting off the cake and sighed appreciatively.

"You were telling me about Kakashi?"

"When he took on team seven, I thought things would look up. He'd isolated himself for years, and I could tell he was drinking heavily. A new girl every night, too. It was disgusting to watch what he was doing to himself. But he did stop drinking, you know, once he was put in charge of you kids."

"Really?"

"It started up again after Itachi nailed him with the tsukiyomi. At first, he asked for more and more difficult missions, and he succeeded, but his behavior was bound to catch up with him. Lately, Tsunade had been giving him less important jobs—class B, mostly. The result was that he drank more. So when I found out about you and… Tsuki, is it? I was really encouraged. Angry, too of course, that he avoided his parental duties."

"He didn't do that. I left without telling him."

"And I'm sure you had good reason to do so."

Sakura sighed then. "He gave me the brush-off when I tried to tell him. I was hyperemotional, due to being pregnant, and I bailed. I couldn't deal with that level of rejection from someone I'd looked up to for so many years."

"I understand the emotional part. I'm a great-grandfather you know. 30 pups of my own, 100 grandkids, and 43 great-grandkids and counting."

Sakura hadn't noticed the grizzled fur mixed in with the sleek brown fur she remembered. Why was Kakashi sending a senior citizen on delivery runs?

Pakkun was busy finishing off the cake. She told herself should've been pleased that he was licking the plate clean, but she was more worried that he might push it over the table's edge. His behavior elicited a smirk. One thing she had over the dog was opposable thumbs—that, and the ability to walk upright.

"I don't blame you for being angry. I've been angry at him for years, myself. But…" Pakkun paused again, seemingly weighing his words once more. "He's different now. I was shocked at how healthy he looks. He's stopped drinking, hasn't he?"

"I guess so. But he said he never drinks on missions."

The dog laughed again. "You realize that's complete and total bullshit, right? He may drink less on missions, but he's always continued to drink. So there it is. He's put aside something that he's done for years, now."

"It's Tsuki."

"Yes, you're probably right. Fatherhood does great things for some men. But I don't think it's just that."

Sakura looked away then. She didn't want to hear Pakkun tell her that she was good for the copy ninja. She wasn't his nursemaid.

"He's never been in love, you know."

"You're not telling me he's in love with me."

"No, I'm not saying that. What I am saying is—he doesn't know how to treat a woman as his equal. He never treated you like your teammates, did he?"

She shook her head.

"He's never treated any woman with the dignity she deserved, apart from his mom, of course. Maybe Tsunade, but that's due to rank. And we both know how important the ninja life is to him—he'd never buck those conventions."

"So what _are_ you telling me?"

"You want to be his friend, don't you?"

"Yes. I know he cares about Tsuki. But…"

"It's like he's probing an open wound isn't it? He doesn't behave appropriately around you, does he?"

She shook her head again.

"Do you remember when you hit puberty, and the boys around you hadn't? Remember how they acted?"

Sakura giggled. Pakkun had precisely described Kakashi's behavior of late.

"You forgave them, didn't you?"

"The boys that tried to grab my boobs, and look up my skirt?" She smiled. "Of course I did. They were idiots. And most of them grew out of it."

"So forgive this idiot." The pug had locked eyes with her. "Do it so that you can get on with your life. This has held you back, hasn't it?"

She found herself nodding. How had he read her so well?

Pakkun had been right, she decided after mulling over the information he'd given her. Kakashi didn't see her the way she'd hoped. So what? And she did need to get on with her life. It wouldn't harm Tsuki to have two male figures to look up to, and surely she deserved a companion, if not someone to love. So when Karai offered in his actions what was slightly more than friendship (she couldn't deny the slight attraction she felt for him, after all), she accepted. If nothing else, Sakura told herself, she could use their time together as practice for the real thing.

It was a good decision, she reminded herself as she stepped out into the dojo. Tsuki was already hard at work. He'd convinced one of the more accomplished students to train him today—he'd crowed about it for hours that morning. Tsuki was planning to wow the copy ninja with his progress, and the training session with his sempai was one part of this. From the moment he'd gotten out of bed, he'd been swinging an imaginary shinai (she'd banned the real one from the house after one too many vases had been broken) and chanting the number of hours until Kakashi was due to arrive. The stones on Tsuki's floor had been arranged a myriad of times over the past two weeks—in a spiral, a bull's-eye pattern, and then in the shapes of numerous mythological animals. The serpent was this morning's creation, and her son had been rightfully proud of it, even showing it to Karai when he'd stopped by.

She noticed her son walking across the dojo with his trainer, and Sakura followed him since Karai had not yet turned up. She pulled back the curtain to enter the side of the dojo where the advanced members trained, and was surprised to see that Tsuki had joined one of several lines that had formed. The dojo master and several other advanced students, including Karai, stood across from these lines, as did several kendoka who were obviously new to the dojo. They didn't wear the dojo's seal on their tare. Instead, three wore a seal of an eagle on their aprons, while a fourth wore no identifier. This was obviously some kind of special event-- a type of sparring practice she hadn't seen before. She turned to the older man kneeling next to her to ask what was going on.

He temporarily ceased tying his himo and whispered a reply. "Several top-ranked kendoka are in town. This is to give us a chance to spar with them. You're new, aren't you? You're still welcome to join in, you know. They'll adjust to your level. Just find a line, and wait your turn." The man turned back to his armor, and Sakura followed suit. She then joined the closest line, uneasy at the prospect of taking on a master of the art.

This master kendoka polished off the students ahead of her quite quickly. Each was breathless and sweaty after spending no more than five minutes with him. Sakura noticed other students waiting their turn had focused their attention on this visiting kendoka. She heard the murmurs growing as they commented on each strike, each unexpected move the man made (for he was surely a man, given his height and the color of his uniform). All too soon, it was her turn, and Sakura gulped as she gave the customary bow and greeting. "I'm new," she whispered. A grunt was his only response.

He came at her then, and after the first painful strikes against her wrist and lower chest she reverted to her shinobi skills to avoid the force of his shinai. Darting and dodging were trademarks of medics—they had to get out of the way of fire to be of any value to the team. A dead or injured medic was a useless medic, after all. She drew liberally on these skills now, and was disconcerted to find that he could still read her. He was more skilled than the dojo master—that much was obvious. While she hadn't sparred with the master, she'd observed him enough times to have memorized his moves and timing. This man was superior.

Intimidation, she had learned, was one of the tools of the kendoka—staring down one's opponent often determined the narrow margin between victory and defeat. She couldn't see this man's face, however. He wore some kind of visor behind the grill of his men. It was dark, made of smoked Plexiglas, most likely, and afforded only the faintest view of his face.

Sakura knew that she would have been outclassed by any student on this side of the curtain. She was a rank beginner, after all. True, she had the training of a ninja, but that physical training had not come easily for her. She'd trained for years to improve her taijutsu, and even now it was only passable. So it made sense that she was a poor kendoka—it was natural. She could only imagine how her sparring session was being perceived by the others in the room, who at this point were all gathered around.

She was thrilled, therefore, when her turn ended. She bowed hastily and muttered a hurried, "Domo arigatou gozaimashita," before scurrying out of the room and into the women's locker room. She grabbed her clothing and set it on a nearby bench before claiming one of the few enclosed shower stalls for herself. She was sure she was already turning black and blue, and would be humiliated for anyone else to see the extent of tonight's injuries.

Sakura sighed as she let the full force of the shower massage her back and thighs. If nothing else, hopefully Tsuki had gotten in a good training. He'd have lots to share with Kakashi, once the man returned. And that would be tomorrow, no doubt. She was certain the copy ninja would keep his promise to the boy. Perhaps he'd be surprised, too, by his son's rapid progress. Surely he'd be surprised by what she had to tell him. And pleasantly so, at that. Sakura grabbed her shampoo and quickly washed her hair. Her opponent had certainly caused her to sweat tonight. Her hair had been completely drenched by the time she was finished, and the rest of her body dripped with perspiration. Sakura tilted her head back to rinse her hair, then reached for the towel she'd draped over the stall's door. Where was it? She opened one eye and saw the cloth was gone.

And what was that horrible smell? The unpleasant, yet unforgettable smell of unwashed feet wafted her way. Except this was not the smell of a single pair, but rather an army of toe jam-encrusted digits. She tried not to gag as she turned off the shower, and opened the door.

Then, in a very unkunoichi-like fashion, she gave a soft scream.

* * *

Kakashi didn't find them at the picnic area, and returned home, fuming. Where had Karai taken his family? He slammed the door as he entered the apartment, sending Susu scurrying out of the front hallway. That forced him to calm down a bit—what was he angry about, anyway? That Sakura had disobeyed him? Well, perhaps that was too strong a word for it, but he was the leader of this mission, he did outrank her, and he had urged her not to spend time with the man. There was Tsuki to think of, after all. Karai was clearly a shady character—how could Sakura not see this?

Kakashi went from room to room, looking for any clue that might establish where they'd gone. There was no baseball diamond in the village, strangely enough, so that ruled out one likely place. Of course, they could be on any vacant lot throwing the ball back and forth. The copy ninja sat down on the bed he shared with Sakura and thought. The room was as it always was—tidy, and barren of personalized touches. That made sense of course, as they wouldn't be on this mission for more than a few more months, but it made clue hunting more difficult. There really was nothing to look for—everything was in its place. Kakashi opened the closet and noticed the overflowing hamper inside. He really should return her nightclothes to it. That way, she wouldn't notice them missing. He dumped out the hamper and rummaged through the contents, then frowned as he noticed a wadded-up cloth inside. He uncrumpled it, and read the word printed on it: "You learn love by crossing the swords together." This obviously wasn't a kitchen towel. Kakashi grabbed the long cloth and sniffed it tentatively. It was definitely hers, not something she'd bought for Tsuki.

Kakashi grabbed his bogu bag and shinai and bolted. It was obvious, now where she and Tsuki were. The copy ninja made it to the dojo in record time—for a civilian that is. Even in his somewhat agitated state, he was careful to stick to the street, not the rooftops or trees. But why was he agitated, he asked himself as he came upon the large arch-roofed dojo building. Because Sakura had taken it upon herself to train Tsuki, or worse still, entrusted it to that slime, Karai? No, that wasn't it. He'd been worried, he told himself; worried that bastard had taken them off somewhere.

Speak of the devil—Karai was less than fifty meters away, talking to an indigent-looking man, some type of itinerant trader, it seemed. The cart the unshaven, poorly clothed-man stood alongside was hung with knives and pots and pans of all shapes and sizes. He was some type of metal worker, Kakashi guessed, someone who went house to house with an offer of sharpening cleavers and beating out the dents in cookware. Kakashi wondered what business Karai would have with the man—the contrast between the two was extreme. He noticed Karai lean in closely to whisper something to the trader, then point to the dojo several times. Something was definitely going on. Next, money changed hands—there was no mistaking that action, nor the well-practiced pocketing by the itinerant. It was a large amount of money, too, considering the size of the bundle handed to the unwashed man.

Kakashi circled round, out of view, and entered the dojo. He was immediately greeted by an enthusiastic receptionist.

"Ah! You're from the Washi dojo, aren't you? Go on in, the practice is about to start."

_Well, that was easy_, Kakashi chuckled to himself. He hadn't planned on going in incognito, but as an employee of the daimyou, or rather, Izumi. But being disguised would have its benefits, he realized. He looked forward to sparring with Karai and cracking the shinai against his head a few times, without any possibility of repercussions.

Kakashi joined the other kendoka, already dressed in his bogu. While this wasn't standard practice, no one seemed to notice. He was quickly waved into position, alongside several other men who, from the eagle insignia on their tare, were his fellow visitors. Karai, he noticed with a frown, was not opposite him. Rather, he had his own line of opponents to face. No matter. Once this exercise was done he'd seek him out and beat the crap out of him.

But there was someone in his own line who more than made up for the inconvenience of this delay. Sakura, he noticed, had entered his line. Kakashi had seen her come into the room and look around quizzically. It was clear she didn't belong here and what's more, didn't want to be here. He smiled. He was looking forward to sparring with her. Though new to the sport, he had no doubt she'd picked up the basics, assuming she'd been practicing for more than a day or two. She'd never given herself sufficient credit for her own abilities. He'd go easy on her, but give her enough challenge to bring out her best.

That was his plan, anyway, but when it came time to face off against her, something kicked in. The irritation he'd experienced today, after learning she'd spent the day with Karai was undoubtedly a part of it. But that wasn't all of it. He didn't have time to analyze; however, as she came at him headlong, giving a fairly good foot stomp and scarily loud yell as she swung her shinai toward his head. He deflected it easily, and then things broke down. He treated her, if not as an equal in skill, then as someone far outstripping her current rank of novice. She held up quite well for a while, but he landed several blows that he immediately regretted. He felt the shinai meet the flesh of her hip when she jumped to avoid a well-placed blow to her chestplate, and the same occurred as she dodged a hit to the wrist. She'd be black and blue tomorrow—he was sure of it. She obviously hadn't learned that a kendoka's defense differed greatly from a medic's—the armor was there for a reason. She had unnecessarily opened herself up to injury by moving the armor out of harm's way.

Kakashi sighed as she limped away from him, her shoulders lowered in a posture of defeat. That hadn't turned out the way he wanted. Hopefully, he'd explain things later, assuming she was even talking to him. He hadn't heard back from Pakkun, but the pug usually went straight home after completing a task. Considering that Kakashi had refused to elaborate on the rationale for the delivery, he couldn't really the blame the dog for not returning. Hopefully Sakura had liked the bracelet, although the fact that it lay on the dresser and not on her arm suggested otherwise.

He turned his attention to, and quickly dispatched his next opponent, and had just removed his gloves when he heard the scream. It was barely audible, so soft that apparently no one else heard it. To him, it was unmistakable, however. He looked across the room and saw Karai standing, helmet removed, just outside the women's locker room door. He wiped the sweat from his face before glancing at his watch, then towards the ceiling, obviously bored. It was clear he was biding his time.

The people around him wouldn't notice if Kakashi used the body-flicker jutsu. They'd see him, and then he'd be gone, but their minds would come up with some excuse to explain it away. People didn't suddenly vanish, after all. In a moment, the copy nin was inside the locker room. He was only half-surprised to see the itinerant tool vendor scurrying up the wall toward the single open clerestory window. Kakashi turned and saw Sakura standing, wide-brimmed hat clutched before her naked body like a shield.

"Whoever you are—" she cried "That pervert has my clothes! Get him!"

"Sakura—" Kakashi began to untie the himo securing his helmet and chestplate.

"How do you know my name?" It was hard not to notice the tinge of anxiety in her voice, or the fact that she'd taken a small, backwards step.

"It's me, Sakura." Her eyes widened as Kakashi removed the heavy, iron-fronted _men_ and pulled the _tenugui_ from his head. It was obvious she hadn't expected him, or even guessed that it was him that she'd sparred against, only moments before. But she recovered from her surprise quite quickly, her expression of surprise quickly turning into one of frustration.

"Did he hurt you?" Kakashi looked at Sakura critically, noting the welt on one wrist. That was his own doing, he realized. He shouldn't have gone so hard on her.

"No, I'm okay." He very nearly laughed as she stamped her foot petulantly. She looked like a child acting in a school play, costumed as an oversized donut, or onion, perhaps. "Why aren't you going after him?"

Kakashi carefully set his armor on a nearby bench, untied his kimono-like gi, and handed the indigo blue garment to her. "Why bother?" he intoned. "It's just clothing." His calm words belied his feelings. There was no way he was going to allow Karai to barge in here, as was obviously the plan, and lay eyes (or worse) on the near-naked kunoichi.

"It's not _just clothing_! My uniform is almost brand new, and so is the dress I was wearing today."

Ah, that beautiful cherry red sleeveless one he'd seen earlier today. Pity. He'd been hoping to see her in it close up. Still, he made no move to chase after the itinerant clothes thief.

"And he even took my shoes!" She looked at the blue garment in her hand and sighed. "You're not going to go after him, are you? Fine."

Kakashi was almost certain he heard her mutter the word, "jerk," and "some prince charming."

"Don't look." He turned away to allow Sakura a modicum of privacy. She was swimming in the garment, he noticed once he was given permission to look her way again. Indigo suited her, though. It brought out the creamy white of her skin, and contrasted nicely with her hair.

"Sakura?" Kakashi nearly laughed aloud as Karai rushed through the door. There was Sakura's samurai in shining fiberglass armor, though the sweat still dripping from him didn't quite suit the image he was trying for. "Is everything okay? I thought I heard you scream." Kakashi smiled as he noticed Karai's surprise at seeming him. Obviously he'd thought he would be alone with Sakura.

"Some creep—" Sakura began, but the copy ninja cut her off.

"The knife sharpener stole her clothing. You know who he is, don't you? And I'm sure you know his route and where he stays while he's visiting the village. Why don't you track him down and get back her clothing? Sakura's obviously upset right now. The last thing she needs is an audience." Kakashi subdued the smirk he felt creeping to his lips. It was satisfying to watch Karai cower slightly at the dismissal. Not as satisfying as beating the jerk up, but it was still something.

"Er--I'll do that. Sakura, are you sure you're okay?" Karai did a good job showing his concern, Kakashi grudgingly admitted to himself. The man was quite the actor.

"I'm here. I'll take care of her." It was fun to stare the bastard down. Kakashi's eyes followed the instigator of the theft as he quickly retreated. Not that he'd be sharing that tidbit of information with Sakura—she'd never believe that Karai had set her up in such a way. Still the man seemed to know her better than he did—Kakashi never would have pegged Sakura as the damsel in distress type. That said a lot about his understanding of women, he guessed.

He was surprised to see the expression on Sakura's face when he turned back to her. He'd expected her to be irate that he'd interfered with Karai—, ire _was_ her typical reaction to him, after all. But her face now communicated something completely different, something akin to fear.

"That was the knife sharpener?" She bit her lip as he nodded in response.

"He stopped by the clinic last week—to see if we had any instruments needing polishing. Of course we didn't—we wouldn't trust our scalpels to someone like him-- so I sent him away."

"Yes?" What did this have to do with anything? Kakashi eyed her quizzically.

"I think he was in our apartment," she said slowly.

"Ah. Why? Were the locks tampered with?"

"No. But some of my clothes are gone."

"Oh?" Of its own accord, Kakashi's hand moved to the perpetually itchy spot at the back of his head.

"My night clothes—the tank and shorts I always wear."

Kakashi was pleased that he'd learned to control every vestige of his emotions years ago. Otherwise, he'd be blushing furiously right now. Thankfully, he'd forgotten to return her clothes to the hamper—his failing memory had its benefits, it seemed. Unfortunately, however, the clothes were now sitting at the very top of his pack. He should have burned them while he had the chance.

"What type of pervert steals someone's intimate clothing?"

Kakashi had no answer for that, concerned as he was with keeping his breathing steady and expression inert. She'd kill him if she found the garments he'd taken. She was staring at the wall, he noticed, apparently preoccupied with the thought of a potential sex offender sniffing her undergarments. He watched, rapt, as she took a deep breath and shook off her feelings of anxiety. She'd always been good at setting her fears aside, he realized.

"Tsuki's probably looking for me," Sakura tugged at the gi she wore, which was only long enough to cover her to mid-thigh. As long as she didn't bend over, she'd be fine. He probably should loan her his sweat pants. As the sight of her naked derriere might be, Kakashi had no desire to share that heavenly view with anyone else in the dojo, or on the walk home.

"You didn't get a chance to spar with him, did you?" she continued. "He's been talking about it all week—he wants to show you how much he's learned." Her small smile was real, he noticed, causing Kakashi to regret the twinge of jealousy he'd felt when he'd realized they been practicing in his absence.

"First things first. Let's get you home safe. And then we need to debrief. There's a lot to tell you."

"I have a lot to tell you, as well." She smiled again, before turning away to greet her son.

Despite her last, cryptic comment, Kakashi realized it was good to be home. He frowned. How long had it been since he last felt this way?


	23. Chapter 23 A Faint Breeze of Change

**A Book of Five Rings**

**Chapter 23 – A Faint Breeze of Change**

Dinners growing up had been nothing like this. Sure, her mom and dad had sometimes talked shop, boring her to tears with details of inventory and sales, but she'd never been expected to participate. Most of the time, they'd focused on her, in the typical manner of parents of an only child. They would ask Sakura about her latest jutsu, about her teachers and classmates, and so on. It was no different, she knew, than any other civilian family, where parents and children talked about the normal, even mundane events of daily life, like school work, extracurricular activities, bills and friends.

But this family dinner was different. It was strange to sit around the dining room table, mother, father and son, eating cold somen and discussing the best way to take down an international weapons smuggling ring. It just wasn't standard family talk, especially not for a village like this.

It certainly wasn't typical of her family experience. While it was true that over half of the residents of Konoha were shinobi, Sakura had come from the other half of the village, from the small army of civilians who worked to support the ninja, and who therefore lived safely within the well fortified walls of the hidden village. It wasn't unheard of for a civilian family to produce an academy student, but it was unusual. There had been only two other non-legacies in her class, and neither of them had made it to graduation.

It was probably true that ninja families did talk shop over dinner—at the very least they must discuss non-classified missions and jutsu. Ino's did, of course, but they talked about _everything_. And everyone; civilian or shinobi.

Nonetheless, Sakura found the contrast between her current "family" and the one she'd grown up with to be extreme. It was still difficult to reconcile her image of a cuddly four year old with the analytical decision maker sitting next to her. It wasn't that long ago that Tsuki had been sitting in a high chair. Of course, even then, he'd always had something to add to the conversation. He did the same now, asking questions she would never have considered when at that age.

"How soon until you've met the president, or the board of directors?" Tsuki spoke authoritatively, despite the fact that he'd never met an administrator besides Tsunade. Nonetheless, he seemed to have a grasp of the hierarchical structure of most organizations. He'd organized his ninja action figures into the customary levels of authority- genin, jounin, and chunin -without ever having been told what they were. Maybe he just saw the world differently than she did, and intuited things it had taken her years to understand.

"Good question, Tsuki. We seem to be doing a tour of the great nations. I assume Mizu is somewhere on the list, although it's my understanding that we'll be heading to Wind next."

"When are you leaving?" Tsuki clutched the stuffed tiger sitting next to him, its own meal of plain noodles untouched, and left his seat to clamber into Sakura's lap. She noticed the faintest plaintive quality to his voice. The small boy was getting better at hiding his emotion. He made up for that, she guessed, by seeking the comfort of her embrace. She balanced him on one knee as she finished her dinner, nimbly dipping long thin noodles into a small bowl of sauce and then into her mouth. She'd become quite adept in the past few years at cooking, cleaning, and doing almost everything else one handed, the way most mothers did. It wouldn't be too long, she realized, before Tsuki was too old to spend time in her lap or on her hip, although it still seemed natural to hold him close.

"I'm not sure," Kakashi answered Tsuki, interrupting Sakura thoughts. "I would guess not for a few days, but I'll find out tomorrow. I have to be at the compound by eight."

Sakura snickered. Kakashi would be hard pressed to be out of bed by eight, let alone dressed and waiting in Izumi's office. He was able to pull his act together on away missions, but here in the apartment it was hard to get him out of bed. She usually had to use the maximum volume on the alarm clock for him to even hear it.

"You're going to Wind next? Aren't you worried that you'll be recognized, Dad? Sand is our ally. They know you, don't they? Haven't you been there dozens of times? Weren't you there when Mom saved the life of the Kazekage's brother?"

"Slow down, kiddo." Kakashi chuckled at his son's exuberance. "But to answer all of your questions at once, yes, no, yes, yes and yes. But that's why it's unlikely they'd participate in this type of ring. It would destroy our relationship. ."

"Still…" Sakura shared her son's concern. Konoha's ninjas were well-known inside the hidden village of Suna, and Kakashi was likely one of the most famous. It seemed to her that there was a high probability that ordinary civilians at least knew of the copy ninja, and an extreme likelihood that the people in power had been briefed on his skills. Additionally, the bingo books gave at least rudimentary details of his appearance— his facial scar was an identifying feature, and so was the hair she'd insisted he dye back to silver. Surely those things put him at risk. But Kakashi was leading this mission, and he knew better than anyone the risks involved in such an undercover effort. Still, she wasn't surprised when he abruptly changed the subject. She knew he didn't like to be second-guessed by subordinates. Apparently, this also applied to her son.

"When I finally do get to Mizu and meet the company board, I'll need a quick, effective way to take them all out. Any suggestions, Sakura?"

"Hmm? Mizu? Sorry, I got lost on a tangent. Are you thinking of poison, or some type of explosive?" She asked but went on to answer her own question. "I'd recommend a time release poison. An explosive would be risky—there could be survivors. And if you use something with a delayed effect, you could be well out of there before they begin to show symptoms."

Kakashi seemed intrigued by the suggestion. "How effective would it be?"

Sakura smiled. "I can think of several preparations that have a hundred percent kill rate." An image of her mother, finger wagging, suddenly appeared before her. "_What an inappropriate topic to be discussing while cuddling one's son_," she seemed to be saying.

"And how would it appear on autopsy? We wouldn't want it traced back to Konoha."

The medic waved her free hand dismissively. "I'm thinking of a naturally occurring poison that anyone could prepare—the raw materials are everywhere. Better still, only a tiny amount is needed. You could carry enough in a thimble to take out one hundred people.

"How soon can you synthesize it? And where would you do it?"

"Can I help?"

Sakura tried not to laugh at her son's eagerness.

"No, Tsuki. You're not quite old enough for this type of work. Maybe we could make some cookies together instead." She turned to Kakashi. "As for the place, well, obviously not here. I'd need a clean space where no food preparation occurs. I could probably use an exam room." She thought for a minute. "I'd need a week, or so, working nights, after I gather the plants. They won't be setting seed for another few weeks, though. So we'll need an ancillary plan if you want to take them out sooner."

"We've got time. I didn't get the feeling from Izumi that we'd be meeting the big guys any time soon. In fact, I'm not even positive about Wind being our next visit. It's just a hunch." He smiled when he noticed Tsuki attempting to hide a yawn. "Get into your pajamas in the next five minutes and I'll read you a story."

"It's too hot for P.J.s. I just want to sleep in undies."

"So why did I bother to buy you summer pajamas?" Sakura interjected.

"I really don't know the answer to that," her son replied solemnly. "I told you they would be a waste of money, but you didn't listen." It was funny how words that would sound insolent when uttered by most children seemed perfectly acceptable coming from this child. It was his serious, matter of fact tone of voice, she guessed, or his perplexed expression. It was obvious that he didn't understand the highly illogical choice his mother had made in buying him summer sleepwear.

"You kick off your blankets at night. You'll be cold if you sleep in underwear."

"Please?" Tsuki gave his best hangdog look, and Sakura relented.

"Fine. Wear your underpants. But make sure Sensei tucks you in."

"Thanks, Mom! Hurry up, Dad!" Tsuki bolted from the room, tearing his clothes off as he ran. Sakura smiled. She remembered having a similar aversion to wearing clothes when she was his age. Her parents had always joked about the budding nudist in their midst. At least Tsuki kept _some_ of his clothes on. She could be happy about that, although the memory of her parents gave this feeling a bittersweet taste. Her mom and dad had laughingly told her about the several occasions when a young Sakura had surprised them by stripping down in public. The Shichi Go San festival was the most embarrassing venue, according to her parents. The priest, flabbergasted at the site of a kimono clad three year old deftly untying her obi and baring all, had stood motionless as Sakura toddled up to the altar to ring the large iron bell. Tsuki, thank heavens, had done nothing similar.

"Sakura—" Kakashi pushed his chair back and stretched before continuing. A lopsided grin still lit his face. It was clear that he'd enjoyed the interaction he had just seen between mother and son. Or maybe he was just happy to be with Tsuki again.

"We can finish debriefing later. And if I'm not mistaken, you said there was something you needed to tell me."

Sakura smiled uneasily as she stood to clear the table. She'd been ruminating all week over how to talk to Kakashi. Several times Sakura had been certain that she figured out the best way to put things. Now she wasn't so sure. Exactly _what_ she should say was not the issue. Speaking with Pakkun had helped her figure this out. She now felt as though she had a solid grasp on Kakashi's motivations, and as a result what to tell him had become very clear. It was the wording that worried her, as well as her unfortunate tendency to fire off at inopportune times. Sakura knew that her trigger hair temper made emotional discussions like these almost impossible. A single look or phrase often sent her into an escalating spiral of misplaced anger that prevented her from making a well-reasoned argument. This was a coping mechanism, she knew, a way for her to avoid getting to the heart of difficult discussions. Knowing this did not make things any easier, however. Sakura was afraid that her temper would cause her to make a mess of a very necessary discussion.

There was also the humiliation factor to consider. Sakura didn't relish the idea of sharing her deepest feelings with the copy ninja. But this was for the best, she told herself. There was no way to move forward otherwise.

Sakura was settled cross-legged on the bed, still working up her courage when Kakashi joined her.

"Do you want to finish the debriefing first, or tell me what's on your mind?" Kakashi removed the light t-shirt he wore as he spoke, distracting her by revealing his well-muscled chest. The small measure of self confidence she'd pooled immediately evaporated. His presence made her uncomfortable—her pulse increased by at least twenty percent as he sat down next to her, and her chakra was now swirling erratically. She couldn't tell him just yet—there was no way she'd be able to get the words out coherently. He wouldn't be angry at her—she was certain of this. But somehow, she found his strength intimidating. Here was a man who could snap her in two if he wanted to, despite her own considerable strength. This had to explain her nervousness. Or perhaps it was his raw sexuality that was so intimidating. Whatever the source, she knew she couldn't share her decision with him yet. Perhaps a few minutes in his company, simply talking business would cause her panic to subside. .

"Let's debrief."

They spoke for a while about what he'd discovered in Izumi's notebooks. The trading ring was beyond doubt multinational, definitely involved Mizu, and pulled in millions of ryou each month. Trading had been taking place for at least the past two years. This meant that the syndicate could have amassed a small fortune in assets. What's more, Izumi's clients kept coming back for more.

Sakura closed her eyes as Kakashi related to her his observations of the trends in weapons purchases recorded in Izumi's notebooks, as well as the arms-race like escalation of weapons strength between neighboring cities and countries. The thought of villages and nations rushing to maim themselves sickened her; she couldn't help but imagine ward after hospital ward filled with broken soldiers, wounded needlessly by the new, brutal weapons. But what was the point of amassing weapons if you didn't use them? There always seemed to be a call to put weapons, once purchased, to use, as if war for war's sake was somehow beneficial. Assuming these countries didn't decimate each other first, their stockpile of munitions would be a risk to Konoha. Keeping additional weapons out of the hands of these countries was therefore essential. Finding out exactly what they'd stored would also be useful.

Kakashi lay back on the bed once they finished their dialogue, his hands lazily interlocked behind his neck. "So, spill it."

It was just like him to be so abrupt—his command had caught her off guard, so much so that she had forgotten how she planned to start her small speech. Sakura fidgeted, then took a deep breath. She rose from the bed and picked up the small package he'd sent via Pakkun the previous week.

"First of all, I can't accept this." She opened the box and offered the finely inlaid jade bangle to him.

"What?"

"I said I can't accept it. It wouldn't be right."

Kakashi blinked twice, then stared at her intently. He remained silent as he regarded the bracelet, but his expression slowly changed. His eyebrows lowered slightly and his jaw set into a tight line.

"You mean to tell me that it wouldn't be right to accept an apology gift from me, but," he waved his hand at the oversized box that still sat on the dresser, "it's perfectly fine to accept a gift from that reptile, Karai?"

"No. _No_, that's not what I mean at all. Damn it, I knew this would happen—"

"Put it on." His voice was soft, but slightly menacing as he held out the bracelet to her.

"Kakashi—"

"You heard me, Sakura."

"Fine." She took the bangle and slipped it on her wrist, purposefully choosing the arm that remained unbruised after their kendo match. He really hadn't gone easy on her, but that was the norm for every sparring match she'd ever had with him. It wouldn't have been like him to treat her differently. She frowned. And it was just like him to make unilateral demands—demands that implied that they were on an unequal footing, and always would be. "Now will you listen to me?"

He nodded, and she noticed a glint in his eyes that she rarely saw. This was how Kakashi looked when he was seriously pissed off, she realized.

"Promise you won't interrupt."

His response was a half-lidded look that bordered on contempt.

"I can't tell you unless you promise." She felt her resolve slipping. It would be so easy to end the conversation right now. She could handle things herself, a cowardly voice inside her prompted. Or she could tell Kakashi later. Discussion right now was completely unnecessary. Sakura struggled to crush that cravenly self. It was easy to make promises to oneself, and easier still to break those promises. That was why she was talking to Kakashi right now. She wasn't able to do this alone. And while she might break a promise to herself, she never broke a pledge to another. Honor did not allow that.

"K-kakashi—" she stuttered. Great. First her courage, then her resolve. Now, even her voice was refusing to cooperate.

The copy ninja shrugged lazily in response, but his posture suggested he was listening keenly and judging every word. "I won't interrupt."

"Okay." She paused again, girding herself psychologically before she sat on the edge of the bed, positioning herself some distance from him. "The reason I said that—that I couldn't accept the gift has nothing to do with Karai. It has to do with _me_."

"Sakura—"

"You said you wouldn't interrupt." She glared at him before continuing. "The thing is, I don't deserve this gift." She fiddled with the bangle, turning it as she spoke. It was beautiful, and the fact that it had been an expensive purchase was obvious to her as soon as she lifted it from the box. "Kakashi, you did something childish, and tactless, but I did something exponentially worse. I've already paid you back for what you did. You don't owe me an apology, and you didn't owe me a gift."

"What are you talking about?" Kakashi seemed perplexed, and then concerned. Almost anxious, in fact. "What did you do?"

"I was angry when I found the zucchini. Actually, Tsuki handed them to me, and asked me to explain what you'd written. I was furious—you had no right to leave that message somewhere that Tsuki could find it, and you had no right to say what you did. It was inappropriate and hurtful. I didn't know what to tell him. But that wasn't the end of it." She spun the bracelet on her wrist, noting the way that the golden branches and blossoms blurred into a sparkling whole.

"What _was_ the end of it?" Kakashi's voice had lost some of its anger, she noted.

"This is hard for me to say."

"Try me."

"Your father gave you that book, didn't he?"

"_The_ _Book of Five Rings_? Yes. My great, great-grandfather wrote it, and the book had a lot of meaning for my dad."

"And it has a special meaning for you, too, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

Sakura chewed on her lower lip. It would have been so much easier if she had been wrong about his intent. But she couldn't stop now. She knew he wouldn't let her. "I… I knew that. I mean, that's what I figured."

"So?"

"It made me angry that you think so highly of Tsuki, and so poorly of me."

"What makes you believe I think poorly of you?"

She looked at him with a mixture of irritation and exasperation. "Just let me finish."

Kakashi nodded, and leaned back against the headboard.

"The reason I took Tsuki to the dojo was because I knew this. Because I was jealous of what Tsuki sees in you, and what you see in him. And because I felt excluded."

"Ah."

"Tsuki doesn't realize this. He thinks it was his idea. He desperately wanted to show you that he could learn kendo, and wanted you to be impressed when you returned."

"So you had Karai teach my son in an effort to get back at me." Kakashi ran his fingers through his hair, obscuring his expression. That didn't matter, she thought. There was no hiding the cold anger seeping from him. The air seemed to crackle from its chill.

"Actually, Karai didn't teach him, but other than that detail, yes. So," she slid the bangle from her wrist, "you can see why I don't deserve this."

He slapped the jade circlet away, and she jumped to catch it before it hit the floor. For a just a fraction of a second the medic thought she saw a smile flicker across his face. She must have been wrong, however, as there was no sign of good humor in his next statement. Instead, it had the rough undertone of an antagonized wolf. "Put it back on, Sakura. For the last time, _you_ don't get to decide this. It's not about whether you deserve or owe an apology. _I_ sent you that," he gestured at the bracelet she was now replacing on her wrist, "because I realized _I'd_ done something rude. If you feel bad about what _you've_ done, it's up to you to make amends for it. Don't discount my actions to balance out your own." His brow furrowed in annoyance. "Let me ask you this again: what makes you think that I think poorly of you?"

"Um, everything." She almost rolled her eyes. What a stupid question.

"That's a non-answer."

"You leave zucchini in my refrigerator. You spy on me...masturbating."

"The first one was a stupid mistake, and the second one was an _accident_. You know that."

"But the fact that you're still mocking me over something I did in the privacy of my own home, in my own bedroom tells me something."

"Damn it! I wasn't mocking you. I just didn't-- I don't want you spending time with that creep."

"And you don't trust me to make good decisions about the mission. _He_ trusts me, though."

"You don't know that. He's not--" he stopped short, but Sakura felt compelled to continue on.

"Let's drop it. You don't know Karai like I do, so it's pointless for you to analyze him for me. I don't want to talk about Karai, and I don't want to fight with you. I'm not finished saying what I need to say, and this has nothing to do with him."

"Okay. Tell me then." He wore the expression of a person waiting for very bad news. The look was easy to recognize—she saw it on a daily basis in the hospital, and fairly regularly in Katayama-sensei's clinic. Kakashi seemed deflated now, not angry. She certainly couldn't blame him for either emotion—it couldn't be pleasant hearing his teammate describe the details of her vendetta against him.

"It was wrong of me to do that—to take that away from you. It was petty and childish—far, far worse than you taunting me with a… vegetable. And I do understand that I need to make it up to you. But beyond that, I thought a lot this past week, and I realized a couple of things." Sakura again fought the urge to give up—the tough part was almost over. "First, it's not wrong for you to want to be close to your son. In fact, I see now that it's a good thing. You're good for him, and he loves you." She shifted her gaze to meet his. "And you love him, too, don't you?"

Kakashi slowly nodded. He seemed to be having trouble digesting her words.

She looked away. "That's what hurt. Because the truth is that I-- I still have feelings for you. You probably don't remember this, but I told you that night that I thought I might be falling in love with you. It really hurt to be rejected, and—"

"Sakura—"

"Let me finish. You have no idea how hard it is to tell you this." She looked away from him, focusing her attention on the sheer curtains that rustled slightly in the evening breeze. Her voice was softer, almost conciliatory as she continued. "I thought that when I grew up, I'd meet my prince charming, and he'd be perfect in every way. I should have known better. My parents were in love, but it was never a fairy tale romance. But I heard all the stories of true love—that love always conquers all. And I thought my life would be like that. Ino and I planned our weddings, you know, down to the smallest detail. All that was needed was the groom. We never thought past the wedding night, apart from some nebulous vision of a life filled with smiles and kisses. But then reality happened. Suddenly, everything I'd counted on fell apart. I eventually figured out that I'd been completely wrong--I don't think love like that exists for most people, not anymore. I've only met one person who found his true love. And even that didn't end well. But back when I found out I was pregnant, I didn't know all this. I was so overwhelmed by reality and so disillusioned by the fact that it was nothing like I expected that all I could do was run away. But I shouldn't have. I should have stayed in Konoha, and told you about Tsuki. I should have let you make your own decision about having him in your life."

"No one's blaming you for that. _I_ don't blame you for that. You made the best of a bad situation." His words were tinged both with exasperation and remorse.

"I've thought a lot about this, Kakashi. Tsuki wants you to be a part of his life. It's clear that you're a positive influence on him and a good role model. I thought you wouldn't be, but I was wrong. And because of that, because you _are_ someone he needs in his life, _I _want you to be a part of it."

"Why are you—"

She wiped away the tears that had started to flow. "Idiot. For the last time, let me finish." Her tears angered her. They always did. She hated to give in to stereotypically female emotions. Tears signified weakness. Weakness led to disrespect and dismissal. Sakura carefully composed herself before continuing.

"I want you to tell him someday," she paused. "Someday it will be okay for you to tell him that you're his father. Not yet—he's not ready to learn the truth now. I don't think he'd understand why we're not together. But maybe later, when he's older and won't think ill of either of us because of it, or expect us to magically fall in love-- maybe then we can tell him. I understand that there can't be anything between us. I realize you're not going to fall in love with me, and honestly, that's okay. I know now that it's not necessary. But what I do need—"

She almost laughed at the look of disbelief on Kakashi's face.

"What do you need, Sakura?" His voice was strange—distant and mechanical.

"I need for you to stop making sexual jokes at my expense. I understand how you feel—how you've always felt about women. But you don't need to remind me about it constantly. I need for you to treat me with respect; for Tsuki's sake—because he feels the tension between us—but also for my sake. So if you don't feel it—respect, I mean-- fake it, okay?"

"I honestly don't know what to say." Kakashi ran his fingers through his hair, as though he were searching for something. He seemed to come up empty, judging from the look of bemusement on his face.

"Just say that you'll be civil, and I'll do the same. We don't even have to be friends."

The Sharingan user had no response to this entreaty, and instead sat quietly for a while, with the expression he wore when analyzing an unexpected offense or a novel fighting style.

Finally, he laughed, though it was hard to tell whether the sound was sarcastic or not.

"Sakura—"

"What?"

Kakashi smiled then, a genuine smile that caused his eyes to crinkle into familiar half moons. "You've got excellent aim."

"Huh?"

"You found the thing that you thought would hurt and targeted it. Good work."

He was actually complimenting her for her actions? What was wrong with him?

"You know, there's one thing about you that's never changed. You've always been impulsive. I used to worry about it—that's not the best trait to have on the battle field. I even worried about it when I found out that you'd gone to train with Tsunade. She's not the most level-headed one herself. But something else has also stayed constant. You may do horrible things at times—and this is a really good example—but you always realize your mistakes."

"Don't you want to curse at me, or hit me, or something?"

He laughed. "I don't need to. You're far harder on yourself than I could be. That's another thing about you. You see things in black or white. You're either good or bad, or I'm good or bad. There's no in between, is there?"

No in between. Was that true? Was her world really devoid of shades of grey?

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." Kakashi moved closer and grabbed her hand.

"You don't live in isolation—none of us do. So you can't blame only yourself for running away. I had a part to play in that, as well. I was too drunk to hear what you told me. I was drunk when I took advantage of you."

"You didn't take advantage."

"It was a poor decision, Sakura. I think we can both admit that. And I was the one who turned away from you when you needed me. I don't remember clearly what happened the evening you came to tell me, but I can guess that I shut the door on you because I didn't want to acknowledge the mistake I made."

"But you just said none of us live in isolation."

He laughed again. "I did. That doesn't mean I'd learned that lesson back then. My point is that I'm just as at fault as you are, and I should be asking your forgiveness, as well." He caught her gaze. "So what do you think?"

"About what?"

"Can we start over? As friends? Or comrades?"

She nodded. "I'd like that."

"Then give me a hug." He pulled her towards him, pausing when he noticed her resistance.

"It's just a hug. No sexual connotation."

She gave in.

_Damn it. He smells so good. Like… Kakashi._ She held her breath and counted to five—long enough, she hoped, for a suitable hug, then slowly pulled away.

"I can't believe that pervert stole my night clothes."

"What?" Kakashi seemed surprised by the sudden shift in the conversation.

"I didn't pack any shorts that would be comfortable to sleep in, and I haven't had time to buy any. Everything I own has zippers or buttons." She busied herself at the bureau, as she rummaged for a t-shirt to wear to bed.

"Don't you own any nightgowns?"

"I hate the way they wrap around my legs, or bunch up around my middle. Shorts and a shirt are so much easier. Especially boxers. They're so much more comfortable. Or sleeping nude."

"Don't let me stop you."

Sakura glared at him.

"Just kidding. Lighten up." Kakashi burrowed in his pack and pulled out a shrink wrapped package which he tossed to her. "Here. Wear these. Don't worry, they're new. I bought them in Earth."

She pulled a pair of grey knit boxers from the clear plastic bag. "Thanks, but…"

"It's not like you're wearing my clothing. All I did was _buy_ them." He busied himself with the back pack, apparently tidying up its contents.

"So why didn't you go after him?"

"The knife sharpener?"

"The pervert, yeah."

"You're more important than a stupid piece of fabric. Isn't that obvious?" She turned away from him. His steady gaze made her uncomfortable.

"You've always put the team first, haven't you?" She smiled more brightly than was necessary as she moved to the doorway. "There are things that are constant about you too."

"Aren't you coming to bed?" he asked as he stripped down to his shorts.

"It's early. I'm going to read for a while, I think."

"Suit yourself." Kakashi pulled back the bed's thin coverlet and slid between the sheets. "I'm beat."

* * *

He was tired, but he couldn't sleep. Who would be able to after being on the receiving end of such a confession? She had shocked him numerous times.

The most extreme surprise had been Sakura's admission that she thought he was good for Tsuki. While gratifying to hear, Kakashi had never imagined she would tell him this. Sakura's protective streak was seemingly insurmountable when it came to her son. _Their_ son. Her admission, by itself, was almost enough to make up for training Tsuki without him. Almost, but not quite. That action had been hurtful—extremely hurtful. Kakashi had so few good memories of his father, so few things to pass on. Excising Kakashi's role in passing on this knowledge had been first class strategy on Sakura's part, assuming she'd wanted to wound him. She'd not only hit flesh with that strike, but a vital organ. As he'd told her, she'd succeeded brilliantly.

But the salve was effective too. The idea of publicly acknowledging Tsuki as his progeny was something he hadn't thought possible. He'd never believed that Sakura would forgive him sufficiently to allow it. Claiming Tsuki as his son was something he increasingly desired. It felt good to walk around in this village as the boy's father, to openly praise his growth and smile with pride at his accomplishments. But this was only a mission. Kakashi wanted to acknowledge his son where it really mattered, within the walls of Konoha. For Sakura even to consider this meant that she'd accepted some small role for him in her life. It meant that she'd tolerate his presence. Sakura's acceptance of this eventuality was a gift he'd never thought he'd receive. In truth, he'd accepted that he didn't deserve it. That her opinion of him had changed so much was difficult for Kakashi to fathom.

Sakura's admission that she still had feelings for him had been a surprise too. Kakashi was aware of her attraction, of course. How could he not be? He hadn't misheard her on that infamous evening in her bedroom, despite the fact that her words had been muffled by the old-fashioned clothing that half covered him as he peered out from her closet. And the more recent kiss they'd shared only hours before he left for Earth had confirmed for him that she wanted him. But there was a simple explanation for this: he was exceptionally good in bed. Women typically called out his name while in the throes of passion. Kakashi had been in several altercations resulting from women doing so while in engaged with other partners, months after they hooked up with him. He had been surprised (and also somewhat pleased) that Sakura cried out his name years after their one night stand, as that long a delay was a new record for him. But Kakashi had written off her cry of passion to his well-honed technique. It had nothing to do with love, he'd decided. She'd had Yuki to meet those needs. She'd been happily married. That should have supplanted the burgeoning feelings she'd described to Kakashi after they'd fallen into bed together. Hadn't she related to him, not that long ago, how much she'd loved Yuki, and how much he'd loved her? A loving husband would have stitched tight the wounds of rejection she'd sustained in Konoha. Yuki would have mended her, and altered the pattern of her misplaced affection. For Kakashi to hear that she still had feelings for _him_, and that she was confused by these feelings, had therefore been a revelation.

But she hadn't said "love", had she? No, not in the present tense, at least. She'd only mentioned "feelings". What did women mean when they used that term? It could mean anything, he decided. Maybe her "feelings" were only physical— a bodily reaction she couldn't control, like sneezing or blinking. The idea of animal magnetism wasn't completely ridiculous, and if animals had pheromones to guide their interactions, it seemed likely that humans did, too. People were often attracted to those they shouldn't be, when other factors were taken into consideration. The mind and body often drew different conclusions from the same stimulus. So he got her wet. Big deal. Plenty of women got him hard, didn't they?

Kakashi considered his fantasies of the past two weeks, as well as his reactions to his local environment. That last rhetorical question wasn't exactly true any more, he realized. Izumi should have done the trick—she was the holotype of the big breasted blonde bimbo—all his favorite traits combined into one slightly sleazy (but ever so eager to please) package. But Izumi just didn't do it for him. Neither, he guessed, would any typical stripper. They just weren't that interesting anymore.

Kakashi groaned in frustration. He really didn't know what to make of Sakura, or of his own "feelings" toward her. He wanted to _do_ her, sure, but that was nothing new. He'd felt that very same feeling towards hundreds of other women. The difference was, those feelings stopped once he made the conquest. His thought about such women never lasted past a one or two- night stand. Each impromptu lover was discarded, like an empty bottle of shochu, before he moved on to the next.

How did he feel about Sakura? He'd imagined her nightly for the past thirteen days, in an escalating series of dreams. He wanted her—that was the obvious message of his subconscious mind. This was confirmed when he'd realized the white-hatted woman in red was she. He wanted her for himself. The idea of a rat like Karai seeking something he couldn't possibly deserve was infuriating.

Kakashi glanced at the bedside alarm clock. Its luminous dial read midnight. She should have come to bed by now. She'd been reading for three hours at least, as he lay in bed trying to relax enough to fall asleep. But it wasn't happening. It was clear now that he wouldn't be able to sleep without her by his side. He felt like a child trying to sleep on his birthday eve—an impossible task knowing the object of his desire was in the next room. Rolling out of bed, he decided to collect her. He deserved a good night's sleep and having her laying beside him was the most likely method to achieve it.

"Sakura?" She'd fallen asleep, he noticed as he entered the small living room furnished by Katayama-sensei with hand-me-down furniture. Sakura lay on a lumpy plaid couch of a style ubiquitous to basements everywhere, a thick volume entitled, 'Poisons—structure, action, treatment and prevention' open facedown on her chest. No wonder she'd fallen asleep. He made a mental note to borrow the book next time he had insomnia. Surely it would have cured the problem he was experiencing tonight. He smiled as he noticed her face, her mouth half open in relaxation. She looked peaceful, despite the bright pool of light cast on her visage by the reading lamp standing guard next to the sofa.

Kakashi knelt next to her, removed the book and shook her gently until her bleary eyes opened.

"What's wrong? Why aren't you sleeping?" she asked groggily.

"Come to bed."

She sat up and stretched, the blanket covering her falling from her shoulders to the floor. Damn, she looked hot in his boxers. They rode low on her hips as they were a bit too large, which was fine with him. Perhaps they'd slide down further still when she stood up. The curve of her flesh was enticing, causing his eyes to linger longer than was appropriate. He smiled. He didn't regret stealing her night clothes. It was much better that she was wearing his than those of some dead husband.

"I'm comfortable here," Sakura said in a voice scratchy from sleep. "And you're tired. Don't you want the bed to yourself so you can stretch out?" She reached for the blanket, but he pulled it from her and began folding it.

"This couch isn't comfortable. Come to bed."

"Kakashi…"

"Sakura, we agreed to this. It's part of our cover. You reacted…_stiffly_ to me earlier. We can't be seen like that in public."

"You worry too much. No one's going to think we're not married. And honestly, I'm used to sleeping by myself."

"Bullshit. Even if that was true, there's no way you'd sleep as well out here as in your own bed."

"I was doing fine until you woke me up, wasn't I?"

He narrowed his gaze. "You'll wake up with a stiff neck and a sore back."

"I'll be fine. Go away."

He grabbed her arm and attempted to pull her from the narrow sofa. She yanked her arm back immediately, surprising him with her chakra-assisted strength. She didn't need even a moment's notice to summon it. Kakashi grinned inwardly. She'd been in no danger this afternoon at the dojo. Any attacker would be reduced to a pile of dog meat within a matter of seconds.

"You can bully me with your freakish strength, but I'm not going to let you sleep here, Sakura," he said ineffectually. Why was she trying to take away the small, innocent pleasure he got from sharing a bed with her?

"Well, _you_ obviously can't sleep here. You're too tall. Seriously, go to bed." She smiled at him in what he guessed was an effort to soften the blow. Or perhaps she was trying to distract him as she reached for the blanket. He yanked it back out of her hands.

"At least tell me what's going on." He threw the blanket across the room before sinking onto the couch. He was defeated for the moment, but not vanquished.

Sakura looked away from him as she spoke, seeming to find the details of the sofa's garish plaid fabric more interesting than his face. That was mildly insulting, he thought, considering the inferior quality of the cat-shredded fabric. "You don't get it, do you? I know it's just work for you, to hold my hand, to kiss me or whatever, but I can't separate the two."

"What does that have to do with lying next to me in bed? It's completely innocent—teammates do it all the time. It's not like I'm going to attack you in your sleep."

"I know that. I trust you, Kakashi, despite what you might think. But…I need you to help me get over you. I know it sounds crazy, and I know it makes me the most miserable excuse for a kunoichi, but I can't do that when you're touching me, or even close by. By body won't let me. It gets—I get confused. When you kissed me that night under the willow tree, it seemed so real. I know it wasn't real—it was just some stupid lesson you were trying to teach me. But that's not how it felt to me. So let me—"

"I can't _touch_ you?" He couldn't hide the disbelief in his voice. "Like this?" He grabbed her hand as he spoke. "You mean I'm not allowed to do this?"

"Please, Kakashi. I'm trying to be honest and up front with you. I'm trying to make things better between us. Don't you want that, too?"

"I understand." He stalked off suddenly, slamming the bedroom door behind him, but reopened it soon after.

"This will work, won't it? Problem solved—no touching allowed."

He escorted her into the room, firmly closing the door behind them. He'd built a barrier between the two sides of the bed, one tall and wide enough to remain unbreached throughout the night. A bolster made of rolled blankets separated her side from his, and he'd replaced the single coverlet with individual linens.

"You won't have to touch me this way, and we'll both get some rest. Deal?" He did his best to hide the lingering resentment in his voice. She was taking things a bit too far. It was ridiculous for her to think that the best way to get over him was to avoid any bodily contact. It was made even more ridiculous by the knowledge that the one thing he wanted most right now was bodily contact with her, anywhere.

_And such is the irony of fate_, he consoled himself. _Everything you gain comes at a price._

"Thanks, Kakashi. But you know I would have been fine on the couch."

"Sorry--not acceptable. Now get in bed. It's late and I'm tired."

"Hai, hai."

"Deference. I like that." Kakashi smirked as he climbed into bed.

"Watch it," she said quietly.

He laughed softly. He just couldn't help it. It felt so good to push those buttons.

* * *

He was wrong about the "rest" part. He couldn't sleep with her next to him, not with a barrier separating them. He could smell her. The heady scent of lavender mixed with roses was intoxicating. That was ironic, as the reason she wore lavender was for its calming effects, both for her and her patients. It seemed to have the opposite effect on him.

Kakashi pressed his face into his pillow and inhaled deeply. It smelled of her, as well. Apparently she didn't have time to change the sheets before he came home. It was just as well. He liked the idea of sleeping in her bed, being touched by fabric that had touched her. He'd have to switch out the boxers he'd given her. As he'd bought several pair, that wouldn't be difficult. He'd just pull one from her clean laundry before he left on his next trip. He grinned in recognition of his own craftiness. This was a much better idea than stealing a garment she'd be sure to miss. Sure, the shorts would smell of detergent and bleach, unlike the familiar-smelling tank top he'd previously filched. But having something nearby that had been intimately close to her would be enough, he decided. He was sure that she'd notice if he stole a used pillowcase or the top sheet from their bed. She seemed to keep an inventory of that kind of stuff. Kakashi fleetingly considered keeping Sakura's old tank top. He could imagine her vividly whenever he crushed the worn cloth against his face. But it would be asking for trouble to keep the garment hidden in his backpack. He'd have to burn it as soon as possible.

Damn it. He wanted to touch her. He needed it. He had missed waking up to find her cuddled against him or, better still, wrapped in his embrace. He'd missed the slight wriggle she made when first waking , the small moan that escaped her lips as she pressed against him in the final minutes before getting out of bed, and even the look of mortification she sometimes showed when she realized exactly whom she'd been cuddling against, or upon accidentally brushing against his morning erection. Not that that the mortification part always happened. Sometimes—oftentimes during the week before he'd left—she'd simply roll out of bed as though nothing had happened. But she was always back in his arms again the following night.

She should be in his arms right now. Things were better between them-- they'd finally resolved the worst of their issues. Damn her and her need to get over him. It couldn't possibly be coming at a worse time. Here he was, congested with unmet desire, while she decided to renew her vows of frigidity. Well, frigidity towards him, anyway. Karai was probably a completely different story.

_Bastard_.

It irked him—no, it completely pissed him off that Karai might have a chance at Sakura. Sure, she'd said there was no attraction on her part, that her interest was purely business, but that wouldn't deter a bottom feeder of his quality. It was obvious to Kakashi that Karai considered women sport. He was the type to go for married women too, and not necessarily the unhappy ones. He probably found it a challenge to seduce a happily wedded, blissfully unaware housewife. Kakashi trusted Sakura to keep things on her end professional. She knew what was at stake with this mission, and how important their cover was. And despite her critical appraisal of her own kunoichi skills, Kakashi knew her to be highly skilled at relating to others. It was one of the things that made her such an excellent medic. In short, she was a consummate professional. But despite this, and despite the fact that she'd been married, her ignorance of male-female relationships shone through at times. It wouldn't be that difficult for a person of Karai's ilk to take advantage of her.

Sakura could readily defend herself from unwanted advances— for a kunoichi of her caliber, this was no problem. And with her near-instantaneous chakra control, she could incapacitate any potential molester. But Karai wouldn't attack her; it was readily apparent that this wasn't his style. He was smooth, and more importantly, he was good at reading a situation. Sakura saw him as a little boy lost, someone in desperate need of a friend to talk to. But this was only because Karai had recognized this tactic would work on her. He projected something completely different in the confines of the compound, where there were no potential conquests at hand. There he was free to let loose his braggardly, womanizing side. This part of him derived great pleasure in telling others of his sexual exploits, and the specific strategies he used to get women into bed. In his lunchtime monologues Karai had discussed many of these: the jilted boyfriend, the widower, the terminally shy virgin, even the man unsure of his sexuality. It annoyed Kakashi to realize that Karai had lifted these prototypes from the pages of one of Jiraiya's best works—_Icha, Icha, Tactics_. But Jiraiya had described these for their entertainment value only. Surely he hadn't expected his novel to be used as a how-to guide for the exploitation of women.

Kakashi should set up a situation where Sakura could see for herself just what type of person Karai was. He could stand back as the scales fell from her eyes and offer a consoling shoulder to her when she came to him to admit he'd been right all along. That would be gratifying. Perhaps she'd fall into his arms, a crestfallen expression on her face, and seek comforting words from him. Better still, maybe she'd grow comfortable in his embrace, and even seek it out on occasion.

He smothered the self-derisive laugh that welled up, instead snorting loudly enough that he might have woken Sakura up if she wasn't such a heavy sleeper. Who was he kidding? In real life, it would never play out that way. More likely, she'd be furious at him for setting her up, and would perversely decide that Karai had been the one wronged. She'd seek out that slithering subhuman, and do everything she could to console him. Kakashi found himself glowering at this imagined offense. This was precisely why he hadn't told her about Karai's role in stealing her clothes. He'd added to her worries, he knew, by allowing her to think the itinerant knife sharpener had been in their home, but he saw no reason to incriminate himself while Karai remained blameless, and certainly not when he knew the likely outcome of such a confession.

While the copy ninja enjoyed sparring with Sakura and delighted in their verbal jabs at each other, he was tired of the long-festering anger she had towards him. Tonight had been a watershed in their relationship. She'd finally set aside her feelings. The problem was, she'd gone too far. She'd completely precluded any possibility of _him_ having feelings.

Not that he had any idea just what those feelings were.

She was driving him mad, slowly and inexorably: this was all he had determined. He wanted her, but had no idea how to make her come to him. That had never been a problem before. He'd never had to face the idea of wanting a woman he couldn't have. True, the women he surrounded himself with weren't the most choosy, but he was never the only man in the bar looking to get laid. Despite this, he always had first pick.

But charm wouldn't work with Sakura, nor would a well-used pick-up line. She wasn't looking for that, and to his knowledge she never had. She'd never been the type of girl who displayed themselves like the morning's catch at the corner fishmonger's. She'd never stood for roving, appraising eyes, let alone prodding flesh. She had obviously wanted more than that once. Now it seemed she wanted nothing at all. Not from _him_, anyway.

Kakashi rolled over to look at his bed mate. It was too warm for blankets, even with the gentle night breeze. Sakura lay sprawled atop the covers, one leg slung across the makeshift barrier he'd built. Kakashi smiled as he noticed fine hair silhouetted in the dim glow cast by the bathroom light. She hadn't bothered to shave her upper thigh. Not that she needed to do so—her pale pink hair was invisible enough that she could get away without shaving if she wanted. He sat up and examined her shin. Its clean, smooth surface elicited another smile. Women shaved their entire legs, he knew, when they were expecting all of them to be exposed. The fact that Sakura hadn't done so suggested she'd been a bit lazy, but also that she had no intention of letting Karai see their entirety. Kakashi's smile widened into a grin. He trusted her, sure, but this small detail comforted him.

She really did have beautiful legs, perfectly proportioned, and quite long for her overall height. She'd be drop dead gorgeous in a pair of platform stilettos, preferably black, and a short leather skirt. And maybe a white cotton shirt, mostly unbuttoned, and tied just below her breasts. She'd wear her hair in a loose bun, secured with a couple of pencils, and a pair of half-moon glasses would dangle from her neck. Yes, she'd definitely look good in the naughty librarian look. It would certainly fit her bookish personality.

Yet she was so childlike when she slept, he observed—completely unlibrarian-like, and definitely not naughty. Her face was completely relaxed, showing no evidence of the vertical line that appeared between her eyebrows when she was vexed. Her lips were slightly parted, her lashes long and dark above the crest of her cheeks. He could see a bit of Tsuki in her, in the set of her eyes and curve of her mouth. Somehow that made her even more attractive.

The t-shirt she worn to bed was a bit too small for daytime wear, stretched tight to outline the explicit curve of her breasts and their friction-hardened nipples. It rode up a bit, revealing a swath of perfectly toned muscles above her low slung shorts. No stretch marks were visible—she looked like she'd never given birth. That wasn't surprising. Kunoichi took such good care of their bodies that they returned to their pre-pregnancy shape within weeks of giving birth. That didn't make it any less marvelous to gaze at her physique, however. And his boxers-- they looked so good on her. He doubted he'd be able to look at his own undergarments without thinking of her filling them out.

It was interesting how just looking at her could do this to him. Kakashi's hand crept toward his own boxers, and he briefly considered the possibility of Sakura waking up to catch him in flagrante delicto. He could be completely silent, he knew—years of camping in close quarters made this a necessity, but he was worried that the bed might shake. He could easily get up and tend to things in the privacy of the bathroom, but he wanted to look at her, and drink in the gentle image she presented. That would make the experience at least ten times as pleasurable, as he knew her actual image would outstrip any picture painted in his mind. He'd never hear the end of it, though, if she did wake up, particularly given their earlier conversation. She wouldn't see it simply as a man meeting a basic need, but as some type of sexual advance. Worse, she'd probably call him a pervert.

Kakashi sighed as he rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He'd just have to imagine her instead. But how was this any different from the past two weeks?

He really couldn't help himself. It just wasn't going to happen as long as the real Sakura was in bed and he was stuck next door. Just imagining her wouldn't be enough to get the job done. Kakashi grimaced with discomfort as he stood before the bathroom sink and removed the contacts he'd largely gotten used to. They seemed to be welded to his eyeballs. He probably should have talked to Sakura about proper eye care some time ago. He stared into the mirror once he'd completed the task. His face looked so much more symmetrical with two matching eyes. He barely recognized himself without the lenses. He shrugged as he flipped off the light switch, and opened the door slightly, after giving his eyes a minute to adjust to the sudden darkness. He did like the imperfect Kakashi better than the blue eyed one, despite his face's incongruity. His mismatched eye had saved his life thousands of times, and it came in handy in a multitude of ways.

Perfect. He could see her clearly now, thanks to the Sharingan. Its multiple tomoe harvested more light than a fully dilated cat's eye, though it had an otherwise similar construction. Like a common house cat, his Uchiha eye had a reflective component that allowed him to see details in the dark that a normal eye would miss.

He could see her long legs, for instance, no longer slung over the bolster he'd constructed, but still spread apart suggestively. Her skin had the creamy glow of an object viewed under moonlight: its porcelain perfection was unsullied by scars or bruises. Except for the flesh just above her wrist, of course. He regretted landing that blow. Worse, he saw as she stretched and turned in the bed, he'd hit her above the hip, just as he'd feared. A bruise the size of a cantaloupe had formed. He'd have to remind her to tend to it in the morning. It couldn't feel good.

Kakashi felt chastened, for a moment, as he viewed her slight injuries, but only for a moment. Her pose was too suggestive for his mind not to wander back to the reason he'd adjourned to the bathroom. He was perfectly hidden by the surrounding darkness and the bathroom door, and he had confidence in his ability to move in complete silence. Watching her hand slide unconsciously under her t-shirt, he couldn't help but move his own hand in synchrony. If only she were naked. Well, he'd have to imagine that part.

He saw her unclothed, and himself beside her, caressing her, tasting her flesh. He imagined her  
throaty moans of pleasure as he ran lips across every square centimeter of her skin, barely touching her, his breath causing her flesh to tingle and tighten and each fine hair to stand on end. He pretended he was teasing her, moving just out of reach when she attempted to caress him, until she begged to feel him against her, inside her.

He obliged her, then, swiftly entering her as she cried out in pleasure, her legs wrapping around his hips to clutch him closer. He imagined she was wet with desire, her eagerness obvious not only in the look of carnal lust she gave him, but in her pleas for him to ride her harder and deeper. He couldn't hold back, nor did he want to. He gave her everything she wanted and then—

Kakashi smiled sardonically after catching his breath. That had taken a lot less time than he'd expected. He usually liked to make a fantasy last, to get full mileage from it. But he supposed that was asking too much, considering the woman he'd dreamed about for two weeks was lying only a couple of meters away from him.

Kakashi shut the bathroom door, reopening it minutes later to see Sakura sitting upright in bed.

Shit. How had she heard him?

"You're very predictable, you know." A small, incongruous smile played across her lips.

"Sakura? Is something wrong?" It was best to play dumb, he instinctively knew, in situations like this. There was no way she'd accept that his little display was at all analogous to the one he'd witnessed. She hadn't known he was in the room, for one thing, back when she'd put on a show. Damn it. He really didn't want to argue any more.

"You could have come to me. I would have done anything I could to help you."

_What?_

"I can explain—"

"I know you're hurting," she interrupted, and Kakashi finally realized what was going on. He moved closer to her, and confirmed that her eyes were unfocused. His hand, when waved in front of her, had no effect.

She was sleep talking.

Kakashi dispelled his breath in a long-winded rush of relief, before raising an eyebrow in curiosity. Just what was she talking about?

"Your mom told me this would happen."

Well, she obviously wasn't talking about Karai, and definitely not about _him_.

"It's normal for this to happen. It's common on anniversaries. You don't have to hide it, Yuki."

Yuki? Was she remembering a forgotten anniversary? Or had he experienced some problem getting it up?

"I know. I know you're still in love with Jun. Don't look away. It's not wrong to own your feelings. You can't expect that to die just because… Don't you think you'll be together again, someday? I think you'll find each other." She snuggled against the bolster, planting a brief kiss in the general area of its head, assuming it had one.

She didn't look sad, Kakashi noticed, although her face did show concern. Had she actually been in love with a man still attached to his late wife? God, she was a masochist. Either that, or she had the worst possible taste in men.

But she said she'd loved Yuki, and that he'd loved her. Kakashi was certain of this. He was equally certain that she hadn't lied to him—those words had been too vehement, and too unrehearsed.

But there were many types of love, weren't there? Romantic, unrequited, motherly, sisterly. Was it possible she and her darling Yuki weren't romantically involved? That certainly would explain her sloppy kissing, as well as her general reluctance to be touched. The look she'd just given the phantom Yuki had not been a look of unrequited love. There was no aura of self-imposed martyrdom there—Kakashi knew Sakura well enough to know what she looked like when she wore that mantle. This look had been more like the expression she wore when helping a critically ill patient—one of compassion and understanding, mixed with a fierce desire to assist in any way possible. What's more, the kiss to the bolster was decidedly non-sexual. Kakashi had seen her kiss Tsuki similarly. It was doting, and almost motherly.

Poor Sakura. She'd married a blind man in love with someone else. Had Kakashi really had that much of an effect on her?

The copy ninja rolled out of bed once more, and trudged into the living room to find the huge volume Sakura had been reading that evening. There was no way he'd fall asleep without its assistance. His mind was reeling from information overload.

It was good to be home, as he knew it would be, but he was completely disoriented by the new landscape of her attitude towards him, and this new information about her. It was as though the furniture was rearranged and he was blindfolded. He'd be stumbling for a while, bumping his shins on the reordered landmarks of their relationship.


	24. Chapter 24 Natsukaze

**A Book of Five Rings **

_Author's note: Sorry for the delay in posting this—I'm a little off-schedule due to the anti-kaka saku contest last month. The good news is that this chapter is very long. Hope you enjoy it._

**Chapter 24 –Natsukaze **

Quite possibly, this had been the most enjoyable week of Kakashi's life. Nothing terribly out of the ordinary had occurred which lead him to this conclusion, but several small events had added up to a whole that was uniquely satisfying. He never expected much from life, so when life turned around and dumped into his lap something others might consider merely enjoyable, he had no choice but to react. That was the good thing about being a pessimist: one was rarely let down, and occasionally pleasantly surprised. In this case he was more than surprised, however. He felt like a child rising from bed with the sudden realization that the first day of summer break had just begun. Life felt full of possibility and wonder. One couldn't tell from Kakashi's bearing or expression that he'd spent the week in a prolonged good mood, but he knew the truth. What's more, he intended to stretch out this good mood for as long as possible.

Izumi had announced that they'd be waiting to commence their next trip in a week or so, and that they'd be traveling light once they did leave. As few preparations were needed, Kakashi had a light work week ahead of him and plenty of free time to spend with his son.

That, of course, was exactly what he was doing now, although he'd taken steps to make sure that it wasn't just he and Tsuki. He'd cajoled Katayama-sensei into giving Sakura afternoons off this week, then twisted Sakura's arm until she agreed to join him and Tsuki in the activities he planned. Today was the day for another picnic by the river, one he intended to do correctly this time. He sat under the oversized willow now, back to the smooth bark of its trunk and watched the mock battle occurring only meters away. Sakura had taken over for him in sparring with the boy. Inconceivably, he'd worn Kakashi out and still had plenty of energy left. The copy ninja listened to the precise, metronome-like tock of shinai hitting shinai as Tsuki ran toward Sakura again and again, striking her shinai out of the way with rhythmic precision. The boy's skills were steadily improving—he'd run at Sakura at least 300 times in the last hour, and each hit had been perfectly square. Sakura's patience had clearly improved over the intervening years, as well. She seemed happy to stand there as little more than a practice dummy, pivoting on cue and realigning her bamboo sword after every hit, only to have it struck away once more when Tsuki attacked from the opposite direction. She'd changed a lot from the brash, impulsive girl he once knew. He wondered if she was aware of this transformation. He'd have to mention it to her before he left again. No doubt she'd be happy to hear a kind word from him.

Right now would be the perfect time to settle back with a book, but Kakashi had left _Icha, Icha_ behind, as he knew Sakura would appreciate the gesture. A nap would have to do instead. It was perfect weather for an afternoon siesta and, although a hammock would have added to his enjoyment of the moment, the moss under him was an adequate cushion and the dappled, green light under the canopy was dim enough for him to fall asleep easily. He doubted this would happen, however. He was too preoccupied to nap. For once it wasn't strategy and battle plans that filled his mind. Right now, something far simpler had his attention. He'd been like this all week, he knew, an inane smile spreading across his face with the slightest provocation.

It was funny that he was feeling so good, funny enough that he'd wondered at first whether he might be coming down with something. On its surface, his life seemed fairly unchanged from its normal path. The week had gotten off to a rough start actually, but after Sakura's announcement, a sleepless night and a late start the next morning, things had settled down nicely.

The debriefing meeting with Izumi had also gotten off to a troubled start, thanks to the fact that Kakashi arrived a full half-hour late. The copy nin rolled out of bed at a quarter to eight, only fifteen minutes before he was due at the compound, leaving no time for either a quick shower or breakfast. This wasn't Sakura's fault—he vaguely remembered her shaking him awake earlier that morning, but he'd rolled over as soon as she'd left the room and fallen back asleep. Then again, maybe it was her fault. If she hadn't changed the rules regarding touching, he'd have fallen asleep long before six a.m. It didn't matter, however. Late was late, regardless of the cause. He threw on the clothes Sakura had thoughtfully set out for him and was halfway down the dirt road to the compound before realizing that he'd forgotten to insert his contact lenses. That wasn't part of his daily routine: the previous night was the first time he'd removed them. This of course, was fully his fault.

Izumi and Karai had exchanged sidelong glances when he finally walked into the room, and Kakashi was sure that he heard a snigger emanate from the latter.

"I said eight a.m., not eight-thirty." There was mild annoyance in Izumi's voice

"Sorry. I didn't get much sleep last night."

"That's 100 ryou you owe me." Izumi held out her hand expectantly as her brother opened a thick billfold and pulled out the appropriate banknotes. Kakashi looked from sibling to sibling. They were betting on Sakura and him?

"Sakura couldn't sleep. Did you find the knife sharpener?" He hastened to explain his previous statement, then wondered why he felt the need to do so.

"No. He was long gone. He's probably left the country by now." Karai's tongue darted out momentarily as he licked his upper lip.

_I wouldn't be surprised if it was forked. _

Regardless of Karai's golden good looks, he gave off a very Orochimaru-like aura. It gave Kakashi the creeps, to put it plainly. Did women just not pick up on that kind of thing? Karai fairly oozed a twisted, slithering presence, just as the former sannin had. It was more subtle, to be sure: Karai's skin wasn't a corpse-like white and most likely he was unable to regurgitate snakes. What's more, Karai's tongue appeared to be a normal length. Nonetheless, there was something unmistakably reptilian about the man, something cold blooded and unfeeling. That Sakura could not see this amazed him.

Despite his wandering thoughts, Kakashi did not miss the raised eyebrow, nor the subsequent disapproving glance that Izumi shot her brother's way. Karai's 'game' the day before had been a surprise to her, Kakashi inferred, although apparently she had some familiarity with this technique. No doubt he'd tried the same trick on other women: get them into a place of weakness, then appear as the valiant rescuer. Apparently it worked on all types—Kakashi never thought a kunoichi would fall for such a stunt, but it might have worked on Sakura if he hadn't gotten there first.

"She'll be sorry to hear that," the copy ninja replied. "She was hoping to get her dress back."

"I'm sure. She bought it especially for the picnic. She still has her hat, though. Right?" Karai's half smile widened into a grin, and his golden eyes narrowed until their round pupils could be mistaken for slits.

Karai was goading him with this reminder of Sakura's nakedness. Kakashi was certain of it. He decided not to pick up the rope coiled so enticingly before him: Karai probably intended to hang him with it. He could envision the man approaching Sakura with some hackneyed story about Kakashi's jealousy. Sakura, of course, would assume it to be true—she seemed completely gullible when it came to this amber-eyed asp.

Kakashi's mind sifted through copious memories of missions where he had camped in the rough, among heat-warmed rocks or in the cool, dry caves favored by Karai's legless relatives. The golden rock python—that's what this man resembled, a stunningly handsome snake mottled in warm shades of brown and mustard, with mesmerizing eyes to match. It wasn't a venomous animal. It killed via suffocation, not with poison employed by feared species such as cobras, adders and asps. It didn't strike suddenly and without warning, puncturing one with a deadly and fast acting poison. But that made it all the more insidious. Rather than overtly attacking, it cozied up to its prey, insinuating itself around the unwitting victim. First it embraced with a gentle and possibly pleasurable pressure, but slowly increased its hold until its intended dinner no longer could breathe. That was Karai, Kakashi realized. This was how he made his conquests—slowly, subtly and carefully.

A counter strategy therefore also required forethought. Kakashi chose his next words carefully. He couldn't scare off Sakura's "friend." That would get back to her, quite likely causing Kakashi's own tenuous relationship with her to crumble. Even a subtle threat would likely be transmitted to her: Karai was obviously skilled in the strategy necessary for his form of predation.

"It's good she has a friend like you to keep her company while I'm away," Kakashi replied, finally. The difficulty of voicing these words surprised him. "I hope you'll continue to protect her."

Karai's expression could be printed in a picture dictionary next to the word "gloating," Kakashi decided. The man's self-satisfied sneer said volumes to Kakashi about his true intent. He hadn't been wrong. The man was a predator when it came to women.

Izumi hadn't missed this expression either, Kakashi noted, nor the gleeful wink and smile her brother shot towards her when he thought Kakashi wasn't looking. The dynamic between those two was strange. It seemed to go beyond simple sibling rivalry. Even as an only child, Kakashi could recognize this. Karai was taunting not only Kakashi, but Izumi also, and she'd come close to pouncing. Lioness would probably win against snake: it was evident that she was smarter and far more cunning.

"You might want to rethink that, Musashi" she said in an even voice. Clearly she'd decided against a frontal attack. "Karai's never been the responsible one of the family. He'd be as likely to take your wife and son to a mud-wresting match as a family restaurant."

Her gaze didn't waver as she held her brother's, nor when she tossed back her voluptuous curls to reveal a pair of dangling amber earrings. It was interesting how she could take the most expensive items and make them look cheap. She'd forced him to accompany her to buy those earrings and Kakashi was well aware of their price—half the expected pay from a C-class mission, to be precise. They were beautiful objects, each a dangling cascade of large and small stones set in gold. But on her they looked garish, their metal tarnished, the stones' inner warmth dulled. They were far too long, besides, and likely to tangle in her hair or clothing. Kakashi smiled. Sakura would never wear something so overdone. She seemed to understand implicitly that simple was usually more elegant. Or perhaps this was just her practical nature; either way, she didn't feel the need to gild the lily. Her beauty stood alone.

"You know I'd never do that! Don't listen to her, she's in a bad mood. Things haven't been going her way lately."

That elicited a strange noise from Izumi, something akin to the deep-throated yet high-pitched warning sound of a cornered cat, but more short-lived. Unlike her brother, Izumi seemed better at managing any nascent emotions, though she did shoot a withering glance in his direction.

"Let's get started." She pulled a leather-bound notebook from her desk, and joined Karai and Kakashi at the long mahogany meeting table that dominated a fair portion of her office. It was an impressive space, one she'd likely commandeered from the daimyou. Given the presence of a tokonoma and silk-covered doors hand-painted with the daimyou's family crest, this had probably once been part of the private living quarters for the family.

She'd kept the art, Kakashi guessed. A large, intricately carved figure of a carp graced a dark, iron-bound tansu chest, and the scroll in the aforementioned tokonoma looked equally old and expensive. She and her brother were the incongruities here, along with the modern furniture they'd brought into the room. Izumi, whom he couldn't imagine wearing traditional clothing, didn't fit here. It was clear she didn't respect the traditional ways of doing things—it didn't seem to bother her that the heavy chair she sat in was crushing the tatami mat underneath it, and she was wearing stiletto heels indoors. Her brother didn't fit in this space either, but that wasn't surprising, as an insect-filled crevice presumably was his natural habitat.

"You haven't looked at these figures yet, Karai, have you?"

He shook his head in response, eliciting an eyeroll of disdain from his sister.

"Why am I not surprised? To recap, we sold 2000 units of the class two kunai and another fifteen thousand semi-automated shuriken launchers to our clients in Earth."

"With ammunition?"

"Of course."

"How soon are they expecting delivery? I'm booked solid for the next month."

Kakashi had turned away to hide the grin that suddenly possessed his face. Here was clear evidence that Karai played a bigger role in the ring than Sakura knew. He was looking forward to taking snake-boy down. He'd listened attentively to the rest of the conversation eager to find any small detail that he might exploit.

That had been the start of this week's good mood, Kakashi decided. The idea of getting Karai out of the picture appealed to him immensely, although he'd be hard pressed to explain exactly why it was so important to him that Sakura not be seduced by the village's poikilotherm. He knew it had very little to do with the mission's success—he trusted Sakura enough to know that she wouldn't compromise it, though he was loathe to tell her so. It was simple jealousy, he decided, an atavistic, territorial response resulting when one male encountered another. She was good-looking, fecund, a first-class representative of the female of the species. It made sense, biologically, for him to react the way he did when other males approached her.

The copy ninja opened his eyes, surprised by the sudden quiet surrounding him. Tsuki's battle cries had ended. Ah. There they were, just out of his immediate line of sight, close to the fringe of small leaves circumscribing their picnic area. Kakashi allowed himself to play the role of unseen observer, and was pleased to see that Sakura and son were still engaged in kendo practice, though their attention had turned to kata. That explained the relative quiet: they were no longer attacking, but moving gracefully through semi-meditative forms, oak bokken gently touching from time to time in a two-sided dance.

He should get up and join them, or at the very least, give Sakura a chance to rest. But he found he would rather continue to watch mother and son. Sakura had always been a quick study, although she often discounted her physical skills. She'd learned the different kata forms quickly and was executing them perfectly, sometimes stopping to correct Tsuki's. He seemed a typical four and a half-year old in this—it was hard for him to keep still. But he seemed to possess at least a portion of his mother's resolve. The boy had a longer attention span than most genin three times his age.

Kakashi's thoughts focused again on Sakura. He enjoyed watching her, particularly when she didn't know she was being observed. She was unselfconscious then, her laugh real and unrestrained, her movements unhampered. He loved how she looked when she was happy-- the way she looked right now. That was the result of love, of course. It was easy to see how much she adored her son, how devoted she was to his happiness. It was also easy to see the results of this affection. Tsuki's caring nature was likely nurtured, not inherited. He'd learned how to be the other-centered person he was through her example.

Tsuki was a fortunate child. He had not been blessed with a Sharingan or other kekkei genkai, but that really did not matter. Kakashi knew that alone, even these genetic gifts were not enough. One needed the proper upbringing to turn into a great shinobi. Thanks to Sakura, Tsuki was already on that path. And thanks to both of them, perhaps _he_ was, as well. Kakashi hadn't felt this clearly about his purpose in many years. He'd remembered, suddenly, exactly why he was doing this—why he was risking his life almost daily. It wasn't to die. It was to protect, and to enable the future. Being around Tsuki and Sakura made this readily apparent. He was doing all of this for them.

Things had gone well this week between Kakashi and Sakura, and this was yet another source of the feelings of well-being that suffused him. The barrier of pillows and blankets that he'd constructed for their bed had disappeared after their second night of use. In her sleep, she'd clutched first one pillow to herself, and then the second, depositing them on her side of the bed. The rolled blanket she had unconsciously clambered over, and he'd soon found her nestled in his arms, her head pressed close against his chest. He immediately decided to make the best of it. There was no point in waking her up or in attempting to deposit her back into her side of the bed. She'd blame him if roused during that process. He stayed awake instead, reveling in the warmth of her body, allowing himself to stroke her back occasionally, or brush his fingers across her silken hair. And of course he didn't answer when she whispered his name, or respond physically when he felt her lips touch lightly against his neck. He did allow himself a small fantasy, however, one that he toyed with and embellished until the first hint of dawn. He'd then risen, to allow her to wake alone and to figure out for herself just how she'd ended up on his side of the bed.

She said nothing to him, as he'd expected, but that night he climbed into bed to find the barrier gone. He'd slept restfully for the rest of the week, waking briefly each night to make sure she was where she belonged, wrapped tightly in his embrace. She was back on her own side each morning, and by tacit agreement, neither mentioned their nightly habit.

He could take advantage, he knew. Sakura had made her feelings clear to him, and although it was likewise clear that she didn't want to get involved, that she in fact wanted to get over him, Kakashi knew that breaking through the thin psychological wall she'd constructed would be quite easy. Another long, drawn out kiss would probably be enough to tumble her façade.

Falling into bed with her would surely be sweet. He remembered her passion and knew that it still simmered just under the placid surface of her increasingly well-controlled facade. It would feel so satisfying to make her his again, so liberating to act out the fantasies that had been building within his mind for the last few weeks.

Which one would be the first? Kakashi's mind settled on a scene of her slowly disrobing, then seating herself on their bed. She would beckon to him once she was fully naked, then hold her hand out, palm facing outward to prevent him from coming closer. She would move her hands over herself, then, slowly touching herself from neck to thighs, then lick a finger before running it lightly along areola and nipple. She'd gently squeeze it, and then its beautiful twin, tugging on each until they were engorged and hypersensitive. She'd fall back against the bed, then, moving her legs far enough apart enough to allow him an unobstructed view of her desire-slicked sex, spreading her folds as her well-practiced hand showed him exactly how to pleasure her. Of course, he was fully aware of these particulars, having seen key portions of this show live and in person, but it wouldn't be any less stimulating to watch it again. And when she finally allowed him to participate—that would be heaven.

He would take her in every conceivable fashion and location. Most of these he'd tried, of course, but there were a few scenarios he'd thought up quite recently that seemed worth testing. He doubted she'd learned much from Yuki—how attentive could a man be when he was fixated on another? Kakashi would make up for this, however. He'd teach her any skills she was lacking, and show Sakura what it really meant to sleep with a man…

He wanted her. He'd have to be an idiot not to recognize this—his every sexual fantasy centered on his pink-haired former student. But he knew he wouldn't act on them. Other things were now too important.

Things were finally good between them. They were getting along, she more civil to him than she'd ever been, and he more respectful. They resembled a family now, the three of them—more so than they ever had, although things probably looked unchanged on the outside. But even Tsuki was relating to them differently. In the past, he had often seemed ready to step in to play the peacemaker, a completely inappropriate role for a child. Now he was acting like a normal pre-schooler, full of fun and delight. Tsuki was thrilled to learn that the three of them would be spending time together, and even more thrilled when he noticed that the time they spent together was harmonious. He was more at ease, his ears no longer attuned for the slightest signal of discord.

Kakashi really didn't want to leave again.

Only one more day remained before he and Izumi were to set off for Wind Country. Kakashi wasn't wrong when he predicted it as their next destination, although it worried him to have this guess confirmed. Sand was their ally, but they'd be as likely to be in attendance at the meeting as the representatives of the civilian villages within the country. This assumed, of course, that Wind's daimyou weren't plotting an uprising against the hidden village, but such an attempt would be foolhardy. Sand had the best espionage apparatus of all the shinobi nations. They doubtless were aware of all meetings between daimyou and foreigners, and doubtless would prevent the occurrence of any meeting deemed likely to upset the balance of power within the nation. Therefore, it was likely the Kazekage or his surrogates would be in attendance.

Was this simple espionage on the part of Sand, or were they considering dissolving their years-old alliance with the Leaf? Kakashi preferred to think the best of a people he knew well and admired greatly, but his experience told him it would be better to prepare for the worst. Nations rose and fell, alliances were born and died. It was useless to pretend that any such relationship would remain unchanged over time.

But even if their presence at the meeting was purely benign, what would Sand's representatives do when they saw Kakashi sitting in on their meeting as assistant to the arms dealer? They'd never seen the entirety of his face, true, but even with different-colored eyes, there were certain aspects of his visage that were unmistakable. The silver hair that he regretted keeping undyed and the long scar bisecting eyelid and cheek were sure signs of his identity to anyone who'd seen them before. Upon sighting him, the representatives would be professionals, surely, but even professionals took a fraction of a second to recover from surprise.

Because of these concerns, Kakashi had decided it necessary to communicate with Konoha, apprise them of the situation and wait for new orders. If nothing else, the Godaime might want to give the Kazekage notice of the mission. Kakashi had sent off Pakkun early in the week, but hadn't heard back yet. That didn't worry him. If Leaf did contact Sand, it would take days until a plan was crafted and new orders sent. He'd likely receive them before heading out, and if not, Pakkun should be able to find him, wherever in Wind he ended up.

Kakashi had hoped the next business trip would be to Mizu. He was eager to meet the head of the company, finish up the mission and return home. He wanted to interact with his son in familiar surroundings, and start the long process of becoming an integral part of the boy's life. People would eventually figure things out, he knew; Tsuki and he were too similar looking for that not to happen. Sakura might want to wait until her son was older to let him know of his parentage, but Kakashi had no doubt that realization would be coming sooner than she expected. If he didn't hear it from the villagers, Tsuki would figure it out for himself. The boy had seen Kakashi's childhood photo—surely he would eventually notice that the child in the photo looked just like him. Kakashi hoped Sakura would take it in stride on the fateful day that Tsuki announced this conclusion to her. But she seemed to be past the point of running away from her problems. If not happy, she was resolved now to work with the lot she'd cast. And she always kept her word. She'd stay in Konoha, and eventually allow Kakashi to assume his rightful place in his son's life.

A visit to Wind delayed this timeline. It was a broad vista of a country, much larger than Earth, and had several municipalities. These daimyou-run cities exported the energy produced by Wind's abundant resource of its namesake. Wind might look like an impoverished country, if one looked only at its dull, wind-scoured landscape and dun-colored, thick-walled buildings. There was none of the lush greenery that tends to accompany wealth, as the wind would not allow this, but riches existed nonetheless, in the form of gems, gold, exotic fabrics and the spices central to Wind's cuisine. Kakashi understood any urge Wind's countrymen might have to expand their country's borders, however. Wind's ruling class must seek a lush, beautiful place in which to build monuments to their amassed wealth.

Was Suna still on Konoha's side? If not, the coming years would be more bloody than any in the last two decades. There was no way Konoha would be able to withstand attacks on every front, not without Suna as an ally—

"Dad!" Kakashi opened his eyes to find Tsuki's green-grey ones peering into his own, his face only centimeters away.

"Look what I can do!" The boy ran away, fully clad in his bogu, and Kakashi noticed Sakura was wearing the same. He scratched his head as he stretched. They weren't wearing that the last time he looked up. He'd lost track of time, it seemed.

Kakashi's eyes widened as Tsuki took a running leap into the air, and remained suspended for a moment as he landed a strike on Sakura's helmet. His strong cry of "Men!" resonated around them, and echoed from the opposing river bank.

The copy ninja had to chuckle at the sight of his son defying gravity, if only for a second or two. He seemed to be climbing an invisible staircase, pausing on its top step to deliver a blow, then easily jumping down. He'd elegantly solved a problem Kakashi had been thinking about for the past few days. Tsuki's progress had stalled as a result of the extreme difference in their heights. There was only so much kendo training one could do when on one's sensei was on his knees. Tsuki had learned the correct placement and delivery of strikes, but had yet to put it into motion. Now, it seemed, he'd surpassed that obstacle.

"Was this your idea, Sakura?"

She giggled as she shook her head emphatically. "No. I was telling Tsuki about the day we learned to tree walk, and how Naruto and Sasuke had gone after each other with so much energy, running halfway up the tree before exerting any chakra instead of taking it step by step. Tsuki took it from there."

Such a smart kid. How could he be anything but proud of him?

"How long did it take him?"

"Oh, a half-hour or so. I thought you'd be interested in helping, but you looked so peaceful. I didn't want to wake you."

"I wasn't sleeping."

"You were snoring, baka. You disturbed a flock of birds."

Surely she must be joking. He most definitely did not snore. A change of subject was in order, the jounin decided.

"You look hot." Kakashi immediately realized she had taken the comment the wrong way and quickly amended his words. "You're sweating. Here—" he pulled two bottles of water from the cooler next to him and tossed them to her and Tsuki.

"Thanks." Sakura quickly removed her _men_ and took a long swig of water before setting the bottle on the ground next to her. She then removed the heavy shoulder and breast plate and held the cloth of her gi away from her. Its thick white fabric was soaked through with sweat, causing it to mold against her form. She'd bound her breasts, he saw, though doing so didn't make her look any less attractive. She was real and unafraid to show herself as she truly was. She must be roasting, as well -- Tsuki had worked her hard. Sakura fanned herself ineffectively, then picked up her water bottle and poured its contents down her shirt. She shivered happily as a result and smiled through newly chattering teeth. She plopped down beside him, just close enough that he could feel the warmth emanating from her body.

"Now all I need is a breeze."

"It's coming."

"Oh?"

"Though I doubt it will be cool. The natsukaze, that is. It's why all the buildings around here have such heavy shutters."

"Natsukaze? I thought that was an offshore breeze. What you're describing sounds like gale force"

"Wave Country has a wind they call the Natsukaze. That must be what you're thinking of. But this one comes down from the mountains on the border between Grass and Wind. Due to the climate there, the air is warm and it loses moisture as it rises over the mountain. It's why this region has so many wildfires—the dry air helps them travel."

"Then why do the houses here have thatched roofs?" Trust Tsuki to make such an apt observation. That type of roofing certainly didn't make sense in an area prone to fire.

"Because the people are poor. Even the daimyou's compound has a few grass roofs. You've noticed much doesn't grow here. Just brush and grass for grazing, some wheat in the winter, but definitely not rice. There's not enough rain for that, despite the humidity. Of course, that goes away when the wind comes."

"Well, at least it won't be so muggy." Sakura reached for another water bottle and frowned when she realized the cooler was empty. Kakashi pressed his own bottle into her hand, and she reluctantly accepted.

"Grass gets extremes, unlike Fire." His voice was matter-of-fact.

"You know more about the place than I realized."

"We spent some time here during the ninja wars. A long summer. We set some blazes accidentally—what the wind did to them was frightening. I wouldn't be surprised if there's a fire ban. You may be eating lukewarm food for the next month or so."

"Good thing the apartment has an electric stove."

"Hungry?" Kakashi pulled a furoshiki-wrapped bundle from behind the cooler, eliciting a whoop of anticipation from his son, and a raised eyebrow from Sakura.

"You cooked?"

He shook his head. "I talked our neighbor into it. By the way, Tsuki, her grandson is coming for a visit. She said he's about your age." He couldn't help but grin at the boy's response. It was clear he was eager to find a friend his own size.

"Do you think he likes humbao?" Tsuki grabbed a pork bun from the top tray and eagerly bit into it.

"Probably, if he's from around here."

"Onigiri's better, though," the boy said through a stuffed mouth.

Sakura unwrapped a pair of chopsticks before grabbing one of the three trays comprising the bento. "Nakamara-san made this?"

Kakashi grunted as, like Tsuki, his mouth was filled with cha shu pork.

"You paid her something, right?"

He nodded. It was easy to see she needed the cash. The old woman was so thin she was nearly skeletal, her tatami mats were tattered, and the barley tea she'd offered him had tasted more of water than grain.

"She's pretty ill and can barely afford her medications. That backyard garden is her only income. She was pretty upset when someone crept into her garden late at night and stole her zucchini."

"Ah." Kakashi felt his cheeks redden uncharacteristically. There was nothing he hated more than being chastised by an elderly woman. She'd looked at him funny, he suddenly remembered, cocking her head when she answered the door. He'd be in for it, for sure, next time he walked past her house. She was probably the type that stood vigil behind the lace curtains of her front window, waiting for the appropriate moment to pounce on an unsuspecting victim. She'd talk his ear off with unbelievably boring stories of her youth and middle age. Worse, she'd force him to run errands and do chores after scolding him soundly for his petty thievery. She--

"Don't worry. I made up for it with a long massage. Helps her arthritis."

"Did she know it was me?" He never would have rung the old bat's doorbell if he guessed she'd seen him that night. Damn that Katayama-sensei and her stupid suggestions—he should have made dinner himself.

"She said she saw some old, skinny white-haired guy. But her vision isn't very good, either." Kakashi relaxed when he heard Sakura giggle. "I think you're in the clear. Didn't you notice she has cataracts?"

He didn't answer. The lush curtain of weeping branches had moved slightly, though there was no human chakra signal nearby. Sakura looked in the same direction he did, and Tsuki quickly followed suit.

"It's only me." A familiar gruff voice preceded Pakkun's entry.

"Pakkun!" Tsuki scooped him up, much to the small pug's dismay. "Are you hungry? Do you like cha shu? Me, I love it."

"Put me down. I'm here on official business." Pakkun's voice was gentle but firm.

"I don't have a written message, Kakashi. Tsunade didn't think it safe. That's why she didn't send a carrier kite, either."

That was unusual. Kakashi raised a curious eyebrow as he waited for the dog to continue.

"The Hokage as conferred with the Kazekage. He claims to know nothing of any upcoming meeting with the dealers. In fact, he was quite concerned. Apparently they have agents placed in every village and city—they should have had this information."

"So at least one of them has turned."

"It's worse than that. The agent in the first city you're visiting was a personal guard to the Kazekage, and is now an aide to the daimyou. He'll know you by sight."

That put a wrinkle in things. He'd have to manage an assassination before the first trade meeting was convened. Nothing was more tedious than a silent murder after a long day of traveling.

Sakura seemed to read his mind. "It would be best if he seemed to be sick—stomach flu or something that appeared non-life threatening."

She was right, of course. Finding an aide dead of unnatural causes would put a damper on negotiations. "He'll need to be sick enough that attending the meeting is completely out of the question."

"Diarrhea," Tsuki piped up, then bent over, wracked with giggles.

His parents joined him in his laughter, though their laughs were at his expense. Nothing was more amusing than the delight kids took in describing bodily functions. Pakkun, on the other hand, looked from father to mother to child, with brows more furrowed than usual. It was clear he just didn't understand bathroom humor.

"He's right," Sakura responded, eventually. "That's much worse than vomiting. He won't be able to leave the bathroom." More giggles emanated from her son. "Problem solved. That would probably be enough—the assassination will be a goodwill gesture towards Sand."

"How soon can you prepare something?" Unless plans drastically changed, Kakashi was headed to Wind the day after next.

Sakura's brow furrowed as she thought things over. "Pakkun, I assume you have an address where Kakashi can find this man? Any info about his nightly habits? Is he a drinker? Partier? Or a homebody? Married or single?"

"Lives alone. Drinks alone. Gets in at 10 o'clock nightly. You should have plenty of time to spike his liquor cabinet, assuming you make it into town by dusk."

"That shouldn't be a problem. I'm sure Izumi knows that it's not safe to travel in Wind after dark."

"Why not?" Tsuki's curiosity was piqued, and Kakashi decided to embellish, just a bit.

"Pirates." He was not entirely successful in this attempt, as Sakura snorted with laughter upon hearing the word.

Tsuki looked at him, half-believing. "He's joking, right, Mom?"

"No pirates."

"Bears. Sand bears. You've heard of them, right?"

"I know you're not telling the truth, Dad." Kakashi didn't miss the look of surprise that flashed across Pakkun's normally morose face.

"What does he drink?" Sakura pulled herself together enough to ask an extremely relevant question, for which Kakashi was grateful. He was in no mood for a lecture from Pakkun about his duties as a parent. Hopefully, the dog had no plans to stay the night. If he did, he could rough it. There was a backyard shed that would do nicely.

"Oh, he's a shouchu guy." Pakkun gazed intently at Kakashi as he replied.

"Perfect. That will cover the taste of the herb I was thinking of using." Sakura set the bento before the small dog. "You must be hungry. Surely there's something in here that you'd like."

"How long were you traveling?" Kakashi asked between bites of his own meal. "Did you head to the apartment first? I hope no one saw you."

"No, I headed straight here. Your snore is like a homing beacon."

"What?"

"I'd recognize it anywhere. Seriously, you should get tested for allergies. Did a world of good for my brother in law." Pakkun tucked into his meal with gusto—apparently all of it was acceptable, from pickled green beans to crayfish to inari.

Kakashi stood, fully aware that the smile he'd worn all week had fully disappeared. "We should head back. The wind is picking up."

Trust Pakkun to ruin a perfectly good afternoon with an assassination order.

* * *

This was why he had quit ANBU. He'd been quite expert at this sort of mission, his success rate hovering at ninety-nine percent or so, but he'd never enjoyed the execution of this type of job. It wasn't the killing that bothered him. As shinobi, death was his métier. To protect the village, people who attacked typically were killed. Some were tortured first, though thankfully he had nothing to do with the group in charge of that, and others were killed before they had a chance to act. Kakashi understood that these were the rules of the society which he lived in. Simply put, the motive underlying the formation of the hidden village was to protect the tribe—the extended family, defined as those who shared the village. But accomplishing this could be ugly.

It was the collateral damage that bothered him. It was one thing to take out a person acting as a double agent, like this former guard of the Kazekage. It was another to take out persons nearby who were only incidentally connected with him.

But this was exactly what he had done tonight.

Kakashi found the small, rundown apartment of the former guard quite easily: Pakkun's information was quite accurate. He entered the domicile without a problem, easily picking the lock on the balcony's sliding glass door, and taking the lay of the place. One bottle of shouchu stood on the small counter separating the kitchen from living/sleeping area, and it was an easy task to empty the pale brown powder Sakura had prepared into the half-full container. The powder fizzed slightly as he gently swirled the bottle's contents, then completely dissolved, leaving the alcohol looking the same.

It wouldn't do to spike the drink and leave. It was imperative that Kakashi stick around and make sure the shouchu was consumed. This was where the bystander had become involved.

Kakashi waited an hour for the man to come home, first waiting patiently in the room's sole chair, then wandering the apartment. He would exit through the balcony door once the job was done, but not until then: the terrace could be seen from the front of the building, and he doubted he could hold a camouflage jutsu for an extended amount of time.

The room was a depressing place to wait. Kakashi assumed the man was a divorcee: a picture of a wife and kids lay face down on the coffee table next to the bed/couch, as though its owner had a love-hate relationship with the people depicted within. The table was scarred with cigarette burns and water rings, and even the air in the room was oppressive, reeking of stale tobacco smoke and a bleak, unspoken desperation.

This man obviously did his job and came home to a house that was little more than a place to crash. There was nothing in the room to suggest his life consisted of more than this—no personal details apart from the photo in its cheap brass frame and the bottle of bottom shelf alcohol. The furniture had probably come with the place: it was generic and inexpensive, the type seen in low-budget motels everywhere.

Kakashi wanted to get out of there. It was depressing, discouraging, and worst of all, it reminded him too much of himself. He might as well be waiting in his own apartment, sitting in his own solitary chair, or lying on his bed. In his case, even his photos were hidden: his only personalization was the stained shuriken patterned futon that covered his bed, and the collection of books that had once graced his bookshelf. Take those away and the rooms were essentially the same.

Kakashi slipped into the room's only closet when he heard footsteps in the hall, cracking the door just enough to allow him to see and hear what was happening. The former guard, a man of forty or so, stumbled in with a bleached blonde attached securely to his arm. It was easy to see that she was a former beauty, and had likely traveled the circuit of clubs crucial to the nightlife of Wind's cities. Men there had plenty of disposable income, due to the booming energy industry, and nightclub after nightclub existed to serve their needs. As women aged, their status in these clubs also changed. This woman clearly was a fixture at one of the lowest ranked bars: her clothes and footwear indicated she was still advertising herself as available, although the goods they contained were now less than fresh.

Despite this, she seemed to be a well-seasoned pro, and after the two took a pull from the poisoned bottle of shouchu, they were soon grappling on the room's narrow bed. Kakashi was mildly disgusted by the scene—it was obvious that this was all about release, and nothing more. The specific partners involved did not appear to matter: each might as well be alone. When the guard forgot the woman's name she reminded him, but didn't appear offended at the oversight. Perhaps she'd forgotten his as well. They clawed at each other, eager to remove the remaining articles of clothing that separated their flesh, and Kakashi found himself looking away. He had no desire to observe this. He need only confirm that the guard consumed at least half of the alcohol remaining in the bottle. Kakashi silently willed them to do so, and wished he was aware of some genjutsu that might replace their randiness with thirst. The mere swig each had taken would not be enough to bring on the symptoms Sakura had described. The medic had instructed him carefully in the use of the drug: The packet she'd supplied was enough to take out four people, assuming each drank a fourth of the liquid used to dissolve it. Between them, the guard and his entertainment had drunk no more than one sixteenth of its contents.

There was a plan B, of course, but it would raise questions. He would need to kill his subject the old fashioned way, and hide the body. But his employer would doubtless wonder where he was the next day, and suspicions would be raised. It would be much better for the guard to be home, but sick, and have his condition worsen over the course of a week. The victim would start off producing a moderate case of diarrhea, which would grow bloody and more copious over time, as the cells used in water absorption died and ruptured. Like a person affected with cholera, the patient would lose far more water than he'd be able to take in, and would die from dehydration.

It bothered Kakashi that the woman would face this death sentence, as well, as she'd done nothing to deserve it. This was the problem with assassination orders. Getting the job done was most important, the method much less so. Collateral damage was extremely far down on the list of concerns.

He envied Sakura. Although he had no intention of ever retiring from the active life of a ninja, it must be encouraging and satisfying to play a part in healing and renewing the life of the village. Sakura saw something other than constant death: unlike Kakashi, she was a life-bringer.

Kakashi heard glasses clinking and a high, artificial giggle. Apparently the two had taken a break from their frenzied mating and were imbibing again. He looked through the small crack in the door to confirm this and saw the guard empty his glass in a single swallow, then refill both his and his partner's. That was enough, Kakashi realized with relief. As soon as they passed out, he'd be out of here. The hotel had a spa, and it was empty when he'd passed by it earlier that evening. He could think of nothing he'd rather be doing after a long day folded into a carriage, and an evening stuck in a stuffy closet.

* * *

The wind was annoying. It wasn't the gentle breeze she'd expected, or even the intermittent strong gusts she'd experienced at sea. This was a constant battering, that howled as it reached around corners and eddied in the dead ends and alleys of the battened-down village. Tsuki was able to sleep through its noise each night, but Sakura found herself waking up nightly to listen to its relentless keening.

The natsukaze was having its effect on the village, as well. Most visitors to the clinic were in bad spirits, most likely due to sleep deprivation, and the waiting room was less quiet than usual. Small arguments broke out over the temporary ownership of the ages-old magazines that littered the space, and both Sakura and her employer were berated for the long wait patients usually endured. People seemed to be on edge, and unwilling to make the small talk that made an examination more pleasant. She'd passed several days in near silence, as each of her questions to patients garnered a perfunctory yes or no or merely a grunt in response.

Only Katayama-sensei seemed unburdened by the wind, and Sakura asked her what her secret was. It was simple, she'd replied. She felt as bad as anyone else and was sleeping as poorly. But this was to be expected. The natsukaze happened every year, at the same time. It would last a fortnight or so, then the weather would shift and things would go back to normal. Why not embrace it while it lasted? With that, she'd sent her employee out on a house call, as the wind was too strong for someone still using a walker.

Sakura found the house with a great deal of effort and a few swears. She should have worn a scarf or something she could pull over her face to protect it from the dust blowing through the air. Her eyes teared from the grit lodged in them, and she sighed with relief when she finally found the house she sought. She stepped inside upon hearing no answer, and was surprised to see several young children sitting in the front room, unsupervised.

"Where's your mother?"

"In bed," they responded in unison, pointing the way up a narrow staircase.

She didn't look good, Sakura noted as soon as she saw the woman's pale face. She was dwarfed by her overripe belly. Most likely she was expecting twins, or even triplets. But she lacked the vital glow of most pregnant women. There were dark rings under her eyes, and her skin seemed ashen. The wind, its sound more noticeable up here than in the room below, couldn't be helping matters.

"Have you been staying in bed?"

The woman nodded, but Sakura guessed she wasn't telling the truth. The children downstairs were clean, and the diapers of the youngest two appeared to be fresh. She shouldn't be navigating stairs in her condition.

"I haven't seen you at the clinic."

"We really can't afford it. My husband works hard, but with all of our kids…"

Sakura realized who this woman was—the wife of the nose bleeder. She regretted not treating her sooner.

"How far along are you?"

"Thirty weeks, I think, but I'm much bigger than I was with any of the previous kids, and this one seems so much more active. I could swear he's punching me. Sometimes it really hurts."

"May I?" Sakura gently pulled back the sheet covering the woman and lifted the hem of her nightgown. She carefully warmed her stethoscope before placing it on the woman's abdomen and listened carefully.

"Twins. Would you like to listen? Your heartbeat will be the loudest one. Theirs are fainter and faster." She passed the stethoscope to the woman after helping her sit up.

"If the village had a hospital, I'd admit you," Sakura said after measuring the woman's vital signs. "You have signs of preeclampsia. Your blood pressure is high, and your legs are swollen. It's right that you're in bed, but who is taking care of the children?"

"My husband stops by at lunchtime, but there's no one else. We moved here from Mizu a while back."

"I'll see if I can find someone for you. There must be a teenager in need of work who can help out."

"I can't—we can't afford—"

"This isn't optional. You can't get out of bed. Not only for the babies' health, your life is also at risk." The woman was crying, she noticed. Sakura clasped her hand in her own and attempted to soothe her.

"It's his fault. He can't keep his hands off me. I don't know how we'll be able to take care of two more kids. One more was already too much." Her tears had turned to sobs, and Sakura searched the room in vain for tissues or a handkerchief, finally settling for a clean towel, pulled from a towering stack of folded laundry on a nearby table.

"It will work out. We'll find a way to get the help you need. In the meantime, let's get you downstairs—it's too hot up here. We can set you up on the couch and your husband can move the bed when he gets home. I'll find someone to look after the kids this afternoon and send her over in the morning."

"You don't understand. He spends our money. He gambles and—" she inhaled raggedly, "it's humiliating to say this, but he wastes our money on hostess clubs—whenever he's out of the country-- and pornography."

"Pornography?" Sakura's eyes lit up.

"He says they're _literature_."

"Well, they all say that, don't they?"

The woman snorted derisively through her tears. "Do you know how much he spent on the collection over there?"

Sakura scanned the small bookshelf on the opposite side of the room. Based on the color of the bindings, the entire _Icha, Icha_ collection was there, minus one.

"Three thousand ryo. Can you believe that? I could feed our family for three months on that much money. And he didn't even ask me first. They just showed up, one by one, like mushrooms on a rotten log."

"So sell them. You can pay for your mother's helper that way." Sakura smiled encouragingly.

"Who would want them? They're filthy!" She regarded them with extreme distaste, the way one might glance at a dirty commode or garbage heap. "He actually asked me to read one, as if I'd pretend to be one of _those_ women. I'd love to give his mother a good piece of my mind."

Sakura tried not to chuckle. It was hard to imagine this woman had produced a litter of children. "Leave it to me. I'll take care of it. Three thousand ryo is enough to cover everything you'll need, including delivery. Besides, won't it make you feel a whole lot better to get rid of them?"

The two laughed conspiratorially, and Sakura felt a rush of pleasure. Not only was she helping a patient in need, but paying back Kakashi. She knew he'd be pleased to find a complete collection once he returned. And that would make one more thing right between the two of them.

ooo…ooo…ooo

Why were they stopping here on the border of Wind and Ame when the village was only a few hours away? Kakashi looked at Izumi with frustration as he joined her at an isolated table in the back of an otherwise empty restaurant. She'd been distant this week, and he had mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, he was happy that her interest in him seemed to have waned. On the other, he worried about retaining his position as her assistant. Perhaps it was only open to those who granted her sexual favors. Hopefully he was wrong about this-- the mission might be in jeopardy otherwise. But what exactly had he done to earn her disapproval?

He had been relaxing in the spa, eyes closed, on their first night in Wind, happy to have completed the distasteful task assigned him, when she joined him. He knew immediately that it was she—he'd picked up on her particular chakra signature some time ago. There was also the overpoweringly strong fragrance she wore—its honeysuckle scent was enough to give him a headache. She splashed him, playfully, he guessed, but repeatedly, until he reluctantly opened his eyes. So much for feigning sleep. That she was obvious to him as soon as he glanced at her. She looked frowsy, another pair of ridiculously large earrings swinging lazily below the hair piled messily atop her head. She'd been away when he returned to their suite, probably out bar hopping, and this slovenly state of inebriation was the result. Worse than that, she was topless. He stared for a moment at her voluptuous breasts, then looked away, fastening his gaze on the hand-printed sign just above the whirlpool timer. Nope, the sign said nothing about bathing while naked.

"Don't look away, silly." Her words were slurred, but the usual imperious tone remained. She splashed towards him, roughly grabbing his hands and placing one on each breast. "Tell me what you think."

"They're…um…big."

_And fake,_ he realized with a start as she pressed against him. They didn't have the soft, cushiony-firm feeling he expected. These were more like gum rubber. He wanted to laugh. Here was yet another attribute of Izumi that just didn't measure up.

_Measure up to whom? Well, Sakura, of course._

"Nice," he said, although surely his tone wasn't convincing.

Izumi sighed loudly as she pulled away from him and reached for the towel she'd draped on a nearby chair. "Well, it was worth a shot. I had to find out for myself." She left as quickly as she arrived, leaving Kakashi alone once more.

Maybe that was what initiated this week of moodiness, the copy ninja thought now. He hadn't rejected her outright, although that must have been her conclusion. He'd returned to the suite to find the door bolted. She was entertaining a visitor, judging from the shoes set outside the door. Kakashi imposed on their carriage driver, bunking with him for the night. That man had a lot to say about Izumi, which Kakashi only half listened to. According to the driver, Kakashi was now on Izumi's shit list. He should expect her wrath in the coming days.

But this did not materialize. Kakashi was pleased when they moved on to the next city. Apparently she'd decided he wasn't worth pursuing-- Izumi reserved a separate room for him, although she still kept a spacious two-bedroom suite for herself. He'd been dismissed from his role of gigolo-in-waiting, he realized with some relief, although he was still expected to sit in on the daily meetings with their clients.

This week Izumi had been keeping him on a tight leash, he realized. Unlike the previous trip, where he'd passed large portions of the day with nothing to do, and ample opportunity to spy, he had attended every meeting this week. As in Earth, some clients had balked at his presence. This time, however, Izumi had insisted he stay. That was strange. He had been able to learn quite a bit about the trading network as a result, but he still hadn't figured out where the goods were entering the continent, assuming they were being shipped in from Mizu. He needed to look through Izumi's documents to determine that, and as he was no longer sharing a suite with her, he had not accomplished this. The hotels they'd stayed in this week were typical of the over-rich cities of Wind: made of granite and glass, and soaring into the sky, they had floor to ceiling windows that completely excluded the severe external environment. Slipping in through a window was out of the question as these windows did not open. And slipping away during the day was impossible, as Izumi seemed to be keeping track of his whereabouts. She looked at her watch every time he returned from a restroom break. He felt as though he'd spent the week under a magnifying glass.

Kakashi warily regarded the woman sitting across from him. The satisfied half-smile on her face suggested she was about to pounce. Like a cat, she seemed to be toying with him, but like every feline, her patience was in short supply. She'd only bat him around for a short amount of time, then spring on him whatever it was she had planned.

"Yuki-chan?" Izumi's eyes glinted with pleasure as she addressed him with this overly familiar diminutive. "You didn't cover your tracks very well."

"Excuse me?"

She turned to the waiter who'd approached. "Sake. Two large containers, chilled." The server brought the libations immediately, and Izumi poured them each a portion before answering Kakashi's question.

"Look."

Izumi pulled a manila folder from her briefcase and set it in front of him. Scrawled across it in handwriting nearly as indecipherable as his own was a message:

_Little sister, Read this and weep! There's no chance of you winning now. See you at the finish line on Friday. I'll be waiting for you!_

"Karai slipped this into my bag before we left. It's your dossier—I commissioned it once I found out your identity. Care to take a look at it?" She rose from her chair and excused herself, leaving Kakashi alone with the folder. After checking to see that she had left the room, Kakashi emptied his cup and carafe onto the thick, dirty carpeting under their table, and refilled them from his water glass. He had a feeling he'd want a drink after reading whatever was inside this document, and planned not to succumb to that temptation.

Kakashi gingerly opened the folder and scanned the several documents inside. A feeling of relief washed over him as he realized these were mocked up by Waterfall, as Tsunade had requested, to list Yuki as an army mercenary, not a ninja. That aspect of his cover was still intact, thankfully. He'd been worried, momentarily. Izumi must have a low-ranking contact in the army to provide her with this document. He or she wouldn't have realized it was a fake: presumably the intelligence arm of the hidden village had infiltrated the army and understood its systems well enough to preclude this.

Kakashi continued to glance through the documents. Here was information about Yuki's childhood and adolescence. He assumed it to be factual, as it jibed with everything Sakura had told him. That made sense; when compiling misinformation, it was useful to be as truthful as possible in the non-important areas. That way, if alternate sources were used for corroboration, the bulk of the story would align. Although all mentions of Waterfall's ninja academy had been removed, the document reported that Yuki had been reprimanded continually as a student, and was known for his skill with the sword. As a student he'd been on both the kendo and iai teams. The document mentioned the onset of his partial vision as well, although it did not list the cause for it.

Kakashi looked up when he felt Izumi's eyes on him.

"You should have told me that you're half blind. Although I guess I should have guessed, considering that god-awful scar. Is that eye made of glass? Now that I look at it, it does seem a little different from the other one. Was it an _iai_ accident?"

Kakashi grunted noncommittally as he poured another serving from his carafe and emptied it in a single gulp. She might be trying to trip him up-- additional information about Yuki's blindness might lurk within the pages he had yet to read. The rest of the dossier was typical for a soldier in the service. No detail of a soldier's life was private, whether army or shinobi. Kakashi read through a summary of Yuki's service record. This portion obviously was fabricated, as Yuki's real job had been classified. There was nothing of interest there. He moved on to the details of Yuki's social life.

Multiple, long paragraphs detailed Yuki's indiscretions, and from these Kakashi realized the source of Izumi's pleasure. He came to the summary of Yuki's relationship with Jun and did his best not to react.

Shit. Why hadn't Sakura told him this?

"What makes you think all of this is true?" he said finally to a smug-lipped Izumi.

"I paid a lot for that information, and my sources always come through for me. Plus, I have personal experience of it, don't I?" She twirled a golden curl around her finger as her eyes narrowed calculatingly. "You're not all you seem to be, are you, Yuki-chan?" She lifted his carafe. "More sake? You look like you could use it."

"What are you accusing me of, Izumi?"

"What I don't understand is how your poor wife stays with you," she said, ignoring his question. "I don't see what she would get out of a relationship with you—what's in it for her?"

"Sakura and I love each other."

"_She_ might, but I doubt that _you_ do. Obviously you thought enough of her to have a child with her, but that might have been for completely selfish reasons. I was right when I said you were the type to stray. You're quite the player, aren't you? Although..."

"People change. I changed when I met Sakura. I left that life behind." Kakashi racked his brain for the right thing to say. Damn her. It was just like Sakura to withhold critical information from him. He knew why she did it, however. It would have humiliated her to share this with him.

"People _don't_ change." Izumi giggled. "This explains so much!"

"Why did you share this with me?" Kakashi could no longer hide the anger he felt.

The sadistic smile left Izumi's lips. "Actually, I thought about this all week. You see, Karai and I have a little wager going. We're really competitive, but I think I told you that. Karai bet me that he'd get Sakura into bed before I got _you_ into bed. Obviously," she waved her hand at the dossier, "I'm not going to win that bet. But I don't see why he should succeed where I've failed."

Kakashi felt something akin to rage building inside of him. He'd been right about Karai. And if Karai were anything like his sister, Sakura was a goner.

"He won't be getting back into town until today. I'd guess he's planning on making his move tonight. You might be able to stop him. That is, if you really care about Sakura."

Kakashi looked at Izumi in disgust. "And why are you telling me _this_?"

"Not for your sake, or your pretty little wife's. I just don't like to lose."

Kakashi could barely contain his anticipation or his anxiety on the last leg of the journey back to the village. He took his carafe of water with him, swigging from it occasionally, much to Izumi's pleasure. She seemed to be enjoying the fact that she'd affected him so profoundly, enough to drive him to drink. Kakashi decided a display of drunkenness would be in his favor. He'd be the angry alcoholic and accost Karai once he came upon the two of them.

He jumped out of the carriage before it had stopped and ran in as drunken a fashion as he could muster toward their apartment. Maybe he'd get lucky and find her at home with Tsuki, taking a bath, or tucking the boy into bed.

An empty apartment greeted him, however, and for a moment he decided that was good news. Karai wouldn't try anything with Tsuki around. His tenuous good mood was shattered, however, by Katayama-sensei's quavering voice.

"She's out with him. I have to tell you, I really don't like that man. There's just something about him." Kakashi rushed past the elderly woman and to his closet, uncovering an unopened bottle of shouchu he'd hidden in back. He quickly doused himself with its contents. He then ran past Katayama-sensei again, and down the stairs, and was almost out the door before he realized the elderly woman might have some useful information. He composed himself and returned to her.

"Any idea where they might be?"

"There's a movie in town—_Icha, Icha_ something or other. I was surprised Sakura was willing to go, but she said it was research. Tsuki's with the neighbor's grandson. He was so excited to have his first sleepover—"

"Ah! Thanks." He barreled past her once again, then paused at the doorway. He was a drunk, he told himself. Best to act like a drunk. He ambled down the street, allowing his body to move in the fluid, exaggerated fashion of the dead drunk. It didn't take long to find the theatre, but he growled in frustration once he did so. The lights on the marquee were out, the ticket booth empty. The last show, he saw, had started two and a half hours earlier. This movie, the amazing _Icha, Icha Paradise,_ ran a full two hours. But this was the censored version—there was no way the original would fly in a village like this. Presumably all of the good parts had been cut away, leaving only a sketchy love story. That would reduce the time to about—he quickly calculated—55 minutes or so.

He'd probably seduced her already. Or maybe they'd gone to get dinner. Kakashi peered through the plate glass windows of the five small restaurants nearby, earning several glares for his efforts. There was no sign of Karai and Sakura. Perhaps he'd taken her back to the compound. He headed in that direction, but not before noticing that he was being followed. There were three—no, four—men to his side and behind him, and one in the shadow of an alley just up the cobbled road.

This was Izumi's doing—he was sure of it. She must be planning to see just how much he "loved" Sakura.

He came across the pair in the park. Sakura was dressed completely inappropriately, he noticed. While the wrap she wore would cover her up adequately, it had fallen to her side. The dress she wore was far too short, and backless. Apparently she'd foregone the undergarments this evening. For some reason he felt his anxiety give way to an unreasonable anger. Why was she dressed like a tart? Her hair was mussed, as though they'd already been somewhat intimate, but it was clear to him that she wasn't pleased. She was upset, this much was evident to Kakashi despite being unable to see her face. She was attempting to pull away from Karai, but unsuccessfully.

It was time to step in.

* * *

She hated it when he was right. The problem was that Kakashi was right most of the time. She had been sure this time she would prove him wrong, but once again, he'd out thought her. Or perhaps he just had a better read on people than she did. Perhaps she was just too trusting when it came to others. But he'd said that too, hadn't he?

Karai had returned from a week-long journey to parts unknown earlier in the day. Apparently he knew the weather patterns here and had taken the opportunity to avoid the incessant wind. He turned up at the clinic, tan and well-rested, with yet another small scratch for Sakura to heal, and a story of woe to accompany it. She'd laughed to herself at the sad, puppy-dog look he'd given her when she insisted a simple bandage would be enough treat the cut: no sutures or butterfly closures were required. Then she'd made the mistake of mentioning that Tsuki would be sleeping over tonight with the boy visiting next door.

Karai had jumped at the opportunity for an evening alone with the young medic, and looking back on it, Sakura recognized clear signs of what was to come. He treated her to a movie—_Icha, Icha Paradise_, of all things—how could he think such a choice amenable to a budding friendship? Then came dinner at a nearby restaurant, where he pulled out a small souvenir from his trip. It seemed to be a small box, most likely containing jewelry. Sakura was taken aback by the gesture. It was one thing to accept a gift of something neutral, like a hat, but jewelry was much more intimate. She pushed the box back across the dimly lit table where they sat isolated from other restaurant patrons and carefully explained to him just how inappropriate such a gift was.

Karai smiled the warm, golden smile she'd seen before and insisted she take it—claiming it was only an offering of friendship for someone who'd done so much for him (this raised her eyebrows, as she'd done very little outside of mending a few wounds), and that he would be devastated if she did not accept. Reluctantly, she unwrapped the small package, then smiled in recognition. The earrings were certainly nice, but it was the box that interested her. It was made of red Pauwlonia wood, a tree found only in Lightning Country and in a very specific region on the southern coast, at that. Karai effectively had informed her where he'd been for the last week, information Sakura was certain Kakashi did not know. Rai-kaikou was the closest port to this region and Karai's likely destination the previous week. Now she knew the most likely point of entry for the smuggled weapons.

"This is very sweet. But here," she pushed the box and its golden contents back across the table. "My husband would never approve of such a gift."

"Do you do everything your husband says?" There was a glimmer of suggestion in Karai's voice, a conspiratorial tone that most women must find hard to resist.

"I'm my own person, if that's what you're asking. My husband doesn't tell me what to do."

"Good. That's good to hear." Karai's golden eyes narrowed, and despite the balm of his charming good looks, Sakura felt distinctly uncomfortable. She felt as though she were being measured or assessed. Perhaps she shouldn't have agreed to this outing. Maybe Kakashi had been right, all along.

But it was frustrating being on the fixed end of the mission, staying in the village while Kakashi went off in disguise to wreak chaos on an enemy operation. She felt like the stay-at-home wife locked into a boring life of cooking and cleaning, although this was not entirely accurate. Sure, her job was important, but doing a ninja's work was so much more exciting than diagnosing colds and rashes and lancing boils.

It was good to know she had a part to play in the operation, that she could help with vital information gathering. Sakura therefore put aside the weird feeling Karai stirred up in her. It must have been her imagination. And even if it wasn't, she was a big girl—she'd be able to fend off any advances.

Karai came on to her a mere twenty minutes after she reached this conclusion. True, by that time he'd had a few to drink. He seemed to be the type who became touchy-feely when drunk. He languidly draped his arm across her shoulder as she took him on a short walk in an effort to sober him up. Thankfully the hot, dry wind had stopped by then, though the temperature was still quite high for this time of evening. She was thankful she'd worn clothes that would let her skin breathe. She was glad of the wrap she wore, however, as she felt Karai's eyes on her. She encouraged them to walk briskly, but when they came to a small park, he pulled her onto a bench so that she fell into his lap.

He kissed her then, not the drunken, sloppy kiss she might have expected from a person so intoxicated, but a precise, well-placed and quite expert one. Shocked, her jaw dropped slightly, and she pulled away in revulsion as he tried to take advantage, his tongue wriggling snake-like into the small crevice between her slightly parted lips. Sakura struggled mightily to resist the urge to slap him. She knew she'd leave a mark if she did so, or maybe even dislocate his jaw. But she did push him away from her quite forcefully and let him know in no uncertain terms that she was spoken for, and willingly so. He apologized, slumping down on the bench in an exaggerated attitude of defeat, an attitude obviously calculated to evoke a feeling of pity from her. She didn't take the bait, bolting instead.

How had she been so wrong about him?

Karai easily caught up with her, despite his drunkenness, and roughly pulled her towards him.

"You don't need to be shy, Sakura. It's okay to have needs. I know about your…husband. I know he doesn't--"

"_What_?" How the hell could Karai know what was going on between her and Kakashi? Was he spying on them?

"If your marriage isn't giving you what you need, it's okay to get it elsewhere. Isn't that reasonable?"

"You're wrong. I love Ka-- Musashi. He loves me. Let go of me!"

They struggled, but his lips found hers. Again he tried to further insinuate himself, but she clenched her teeth and pushed against his chest. It wouldn't do to use her full strength against him—not if she wanted to keep her cover. But he was surprisingly strong. She couldn't break his grasp on her. Not without chakra. She gathered a small amount in her hand and quickly considered the best way to push him aside without raising questions about her strength. A simple shove should do it, she decided. She'd be careful not to crack his ribs in the process.

It was inexcusable that she was in this situation. She should have listened to Kakashi. When had he ever been wrong about anything of consequence?

"Get your filthy hands off my god-damn wife." A low but threatening voice surrounded them.

_Kakashi?_

She turned around to see a man reeking of alcohol stagger toward them, fist poised.

The obviously inebriated copy ninja grabbed Karai's hand and forcibly removed their grip on Sakura. She found herself simultaneously pleased and disgusted at the display of alcohol-laden, testosterone-fueled outrage playing out in front of her. She heard bones crush, and cried out as Kakashi grabbed her and dragged her away across the deserted park.

"Idiot! You're drunk! You're stinking drunk. I can handle this myself!"

"I'll handle it, woman. And I'll handle you, too."


	25. Chapter 25 Lull

**A Book of Five Rings **

**Chapter 25 –Lull**

_Author's note: Two lemons in this chapter. Please keep this in mind if you are easily offended or under age 18. For everyone else, I hope the wait was worth it!_

Kakashi was a much better actor than she had thought. Much, much better. She didn't realize his inebriation was an affectation until he dragged her into the alley and kissed her. Before that moment she was certain he was hammered. His speech was slurred, his eyes unfocused, and his gait sloppy as he dragged her across the park and into the comparative darkness of the surrounding streets. He walked with the typical, weaving stumble that she'd seen so many times in the waiting room of the hospital E.R., a faltering gait that, to her trained eyes, communicated the degree of his inebriation better than any sobriety test she knew of.

And of course, he reeked of cheap alcohol. The stench of shouchu seemed to emanate from his pores, as though he'd embalmed himself with it. The smoky, earthy smell was overpowering and almost enough to make her gag. At least he didn't smell of vomit. She should be grateful for small favors, she told herself as she tried to understand just what had precipitated his backwards slide into dissolution.

He had seemed happy during that last week they were together, more than civil to her and thrilled as usual to be with Tsuki. Maybe this was about her confession. Maybe he couldn't deal with the idea of her still having feelings for him, even though she was trying to get over them. But that didn't quite make sense. He was angry when she said she couldn't share a bed with him and had gone to some effort to preempt her attempt to sleep alone. It had been obvious to her that the small action of bringing her back to their bed had fixed things in his mind. So what was wrong with him now? Had something happened in Wind? Had the assassination gone badly, or had a long-forgotten memory been triggered by something he'd seen or done?

He hadn't gone for the bottle since they'd been in the village, she realized, apart from that first night. Not that she knew of, anyway. He might be drinking while away with Izumi, but this was highly doubtful. Kakashi liked to keep his faculties about him while on missions. Something here was very strange: the facts just didn't coalesce into a coherent whole.

Sakura certainly didn't like the expression she saw writ across Kakashi's face as he pulled her away from Karai. She hadn't thought he was an angry drunk, but apparently she was wrong. Judging from the horrible crunching sound she had heard moments before, she was certain Kakashi had broken at least a few of the bones in Karai's hand. Hopefully only the fingers—those bones would be easy to set, unlike the metacarpals.

She was incensed, of course, furious that Kakashi thought it necessary to rescue her from Karai, and irate at the jealousy he exuded. But the drunkenness simply saddened her— she thought he had moved past that, if only for Tsuki's sake.

Then Kakashi pushed her against the alley's rough, brick wall and kissed her. She realized immediately that she'd misinterpreted the situation. He wasn't drunk. His breath was clean, tasting slightly of wasabi, toasted nori, and the clean, familiar smell of fresh caught fish, but of nothing else. There was no way he could be intoxicated—a person smelling as pungent as he did should have had breath to match. The copy ninja's words, whispered in a rough voice as he grazed her neck with a cheek coarsened by a day's growth of beard, confirmed her conclusion.

"Play along. Stay angry for a while, but then we've got to put on a show."

"What?"

_Put on a show? _

Sakura recovered enough to respond to his suggestion in the manner he requested. "Get away from me, idiot!" She punctuated this cry with a well-timed shove. "You're drunk. You promised me, you promised Tsuki—"

"Keep our son out of this," he growled in response, quite loudly.

"What's going on?" Her question was quiet but infused with the confusion and urgency she felt.

He ignored her, and she did her best to not put too much force into the punch she landed next. It would look like quite a good slug to any observer, however. And she realized that they _were_ being observed. The kunoichi picked out at least five people in the vicinity—one on a fire escape at two o'clock, one farther down the alley, and three in the street running perpendicular to the narrow lane in which she and Kakashi stood. They would have a pretty clear view of things. The alley was unlit by street lamps, but a full moon played hide and seek in a cloud-filled sky. At intervals they were lit by moonlight nearly half as bright as a cloudy day, though cold and bluish in tone.

"This has nothing to do with you. What gives you the right to attack someone like that?" Hopefully she was on the right track. If nothing else, she was curious to see how he would answer. She couldn't grasp why he thought it appropriate to micromanage her social life.

"I'm gone for a week, and my fuckin' wife can't keep her panties on?" Kakashi's coarse words interrupted her thoughts like a construction worker's cat call to any random, passing female. She squirmed as he grabbed at her skirt, sliding his hand up her thigh. "You shaved for him? God damn it, woman!"

Why the hell should Kakashi care if she shaved her legs? Of _course_ she had—the skirt was short, and besides that, it was hot out. Smooth skin felt much more comfortable in the oppressive, windy heat they'd experienced for the past week. But he wasn't going to stop at loutish, loud comments, it seemed. She felt Kakashi grab the side elastic of the thong she wore and pull sharply until it snapped. He repeated the motion on the other side, then pitched the garment away from her. Sakura watched, slightly dazed, as the tiny garment fluttered to the ground like a downed butterfly. Those had been expensive and one of the few nice pairs of panties she owned. He'd hear about it later, once this charade was over.

"At least you wore some."

The ill-humored phrase set her off.

"'G-god damn it, woman?' What the hell is _wrong_ with you? How dare you talk to me like this? I'm not your property, damn you!" She didn't have to disinter the confused emotion she expressed. Sakura was certain she saw disappointment shimmering in his eyes. And despite her new awareness of his superb acting skills, she couldn't interpret this hostility towards her as anything other than real. Something horrible must have happened to make him feel the need to act in this way.

Kakashi's hands met Sakura's shoulders as he pressed her forcefully against the wall, and his lips crushed against hers. She felt fragments of decayed brick grate across her unclothed back and she questioned again why Kakashi seemed to be overdoing things. She wondered exactly how far he planned to take this show.

This couldn't be acting. If so, it was different than anything she'd seen from him before. He'd been pretending when he kissed her two weeks before and he completely fooled her then. She'd concluded, wrongly, that he had feelings for her, and had wrestled with the humiliation for days after. But if that show of talent was masterful, this was genius-level. If she were an observer and not a participant of the scene, she would have had to conclude Kakashi was a wronged husband, a cuckold raging at his wife's infidelity, but also a man unable to control his deluge of passion.

She'd underestimated him, once again. Of course Kakashi was a skilled actor. One didn't survive as shinobi for over thirty years without considerable skills in _every_ arena. Sakura wondered how many times he'd been in similar situations, taking on a new persona and throwing himself into it so completely that he seemed to become a different person.

A soft hiss terminated her hypothesizing. "Put yourself into this, Sakura. Don't just stand there like a scarecrow." The volume of Kakashi's voice increased by several decibels as he grabbed her leg and pulled it over his hip, then ground his hips against her.

"Was he good, Sakura? Did you like him?" She knew this was for the audience but couldn't help feeling that the emotion behind the question was real.

"I didn't—" Her eyes pleaded with him, urging him to explain the rationale for this scene. If he were acting, there had to be some reason for it. This couldn't be simple jealousy—Kakashi was consummately discreet.

He kissed her again, urgently, and when his tongue penetrated the barrier of her lips, she relented, willingly allowing him entrance. Even when acting the angry boor, he was supremely attractive. Where Karai's kiss was obscene in its assumption of familiarity, Kakashi's was no such thing. This kiss was welcome, if overwhelming in its unforgiving intensity. Sakura felt herself melting, her resolution dripping away like spent candle wax. Even when he was acting she couldn't resist.

She summoned her resolve, however, for one final stand.

"Tell me," she demanded quietly. "Tell me what's going on here, or I'm not playing along."

Kakashi's eyes narrowed as he responded in an equally soft voice, although with an undertone that was surprisingly harsh. "You _will_ play along, Sakura. I'm your superior, and this is a direct order."

"But…"

"There's a little something you forgot to tell me, isn't there?" He suckled her neck as he spoke, and she couldn't help but tilt her head to allow his lips to continue their exploration.

But what could she have forgotten to tell him? She'd mentioned every small scrap of information garnered during her medical exams of the village's residents, not that much had come of the idle gossip and speculation that comprised those conversations.

"Think, Sakura. Think of your _husband_."

"Y-yuki?" She said this much too loudly, and blushed as she realized this.

"Go ahead and call me that," he murmured as he moved his attentions to her earlobe. She'd never realized that semi-useless piece of flesh was an erogenous zone. "That aspect of our cover is long gone. Izumi knows and so does your precious Karai." He nearly spat the last name, and the vitriol dripped from his voice like venom.

"What _about_ Yuki?" Her whispered voice rose in pitch.

_Oh, God, not that. There was no way--_

"You endangered the mission, Sakura. You and your stupid, selfish pride. So don't complain about what's coming next. We _have_ to do this." With that, he pulled at the bow securing her halter top behind the neck, then tore at the black silk fabric encasing her breasts.

"Aaah…" A strange mixture of revulsion and desire overtook her: revulsion at being observed by what were obviously Kakashi's coworkers, or possibly Izumi's other hired goons, and desire in response to Kakashi's expert licking and sucking at her flesh. He bit her gently, and she found herself melt still more. He was so good at this. She wanted to resist him, but her body mutinied. It seemed programmed to react to his slightest touch.

She knew what was coming next—although she'd never played the classical kunoichi role before, she was well-prepared for it. Lesson after lesson in the kunoichi classes she suffered through as a girl had gone over, step by step, the appropriate way to seduce and be seduced, to ravish and be ravished. She'd memorized the moves and the words until she could recite them by heart. She knew the precise angle at which to arch her back, the perfect timbre of voice in which to moan, and the best words to cry out when faking a powerful climax. She knew this role inside out, like all other aspects of her profession. But she'd always hoped that if and when this type of situation did arrive, she'd be able to be professional about it. But that wasn't possible in this case. She couldn't act around Kakashi—any reaction to him would be all too real, and this was unacceptable, given their current scenario. She wanted desperately to get over him. But if she fully participated in the scene he'd choreographed, Sakura feared their dance would land them back at the beginning of their relationship. She had no desire to experience again the time when she'd made the mistake of mentioning her growing feelings for him, followed closely by the olive green and navy blue blur of Kakashi making a rapid rush for the nearest exit. She couldn't do that to herself, or to Tsuki.

He was kneading one breast while nipping at the other, biting and tugging at her now engorged nipple and eliciting moans that were unabashedly real. His unoccupied hand hiked her skirt to her hips, almost exposing her fully to their hidden audience. Her clothing had been reduced to a circle of scrunched up fabric around her waist, and a pair of too-high heels. Kakashi pushed her more firmly against the wall, scraping her back against rough mortar and sharp-edged bricks, but she easily ignored the sensation of tearing skin and the moisture of the blood that was undoubtedly seeping to the surface of her flesh. Her senses were otherwise occupied, blissfully so. She felt his free hand guide her other thigh to encircle his hip, and she moaned softly as his fingers probed the wetness between her legs.

He lifted this hand to his lips, and slowly licked each finger, regarding her intently as he did so.

"Is this for me, or Karai? Answer me."

"It's for you," she whispered.

"Louder. Tell me that you want _me_, not that snake."

"I… want you." She did her best to project her voice, and wished that the quintet watching them might suddenly tire of their live sex show. "Good." She heard the clink of his belt buckle unfastening, and the soft metallic sound of a zipper sliding open. He was really planning on going through with this. She knew it was necessary, given the circumstances, but it would nevertheless be so degrading. It would be one thing if both of them were acting, but that wouldn't be the case—not for her anyway. The thought of unknown men observing her private reactions, like voyeurs at some tawdry, 2-ryo peepshow, filled her with revulsion, but it wasn't enough to quell her body's instinctual response to Kakashi's touch.

The copy ninja ground against her again, and she felt the strength of his erection through his knit boxer shorts. He slid back and forth slowly but persistently. Sakura was sure the cloth of his undergarment was wet through immediately-- not by him, but by her. It was humiliating to be confronted with the physical evidence of his hold over her.

"React," Kakashi murmured. "Pretend I'm inside you."

She stiffened with surprise, then breathed more easily as she understood the meaning of his words.

_This is it? This is all he intends to do?_

She almost laughed.

"If you don't, it will have to be the real thing. Not that I'd mind."

She moaned softly, but unconvincingly as he moved against her again. But this was odd, as that moan should have conveyed her true feelings. Despite the nearby voyeurs, she realized that part of her wanted Kakashi inside of her. She tried to relax as he pushed against her, seemingly teasing as his fabric covered member brushed against her core. He was being a gentleman—as much as was possible under the circumstances. Surely she could project some of what she was feeling so that the cretins surrounding them would be satisfied and disappear.

She attempted another moan, but it came off wooden, despite her body's reaction to Kakashi's continued caresses. It was as if there were two minds within her, each battling for supremacy: she wanted him, desperately, but she didn't want to show it. Her feelings were private, and ones she didn't want to have, let alone acknowledge. And she certainly didn't want anyone in the vicinity to see the evidence of her passion for him, even if they were supposedly married.

"That was pitiful. You leave me no choice, you know." Kakashi's hand moved to caress her, easily parting her warm, desire-slicked flesh to find the bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex. Her breath quickened as he touched her, and despite her mind's loudly-voiced concerns, she found herself squirming against him, spreading her legs wider to allow him easier access.

He laughed as he noticed her ragged breath.

"Louder, Sakura. Let me hear how much you want me to fuck you."

"Please," she said, ignoring the advice of her rational other self. "God! That's so good."

"Louder." She felt first one finger, then two enter her, and noticed his possessive, cocky smile at her immediate, intense response. This was some kind of game to him, she realized, some type of twisted, sadistic game. She didn't want to stop playing, however, not now. She was too far gone, although she knew she'd end up losing. That was how things worked with this man.

"More. I can't…stand it." She could hardly get the words out.

"Louder. Let them hear what you're saying." He continued to stroke her, one hand on her clitoris, as the fingers of the other slid in and out.

"Please… I need…"

Her hands sought his boxers and in a quick motion she freed him from the fabric constricting his length.

"Fuck me. Please." She screamed this, fully aware that Kakashi would have no choice but to oblige her, given the bystanders listening to and watching their every word and action. It would be obvious to them that he'd been doing something else until now.

Kakashi hesitated, momentarily, as his eyes searched hers, trying to find the answer to some unasked question. She didn't allow him the chance to vocalize his concern, however. She grabbed his length and impaled herself upon it, her arm locking around his torso to pull him closer to her, and deeper inside of her. She cried out with pleasure and relief as she took him into herself and wondered fleetingly how she'd gone for so long without the benefit of this particular sensation.

The silver-haired jounin responded with a groan that resembled more a cry of agony than desire. But he recovered from his surprise quickly, pistoning into her with a machine-like efficiency, each pumping stroke delving deeper.. Sakura's breathing grew shallower as his head hit repeatedly and precisely against the hidden circle of hypersensitive tissue within her. Splayed against the wall, she was positioned perfectly for each stroke to trigger the firing of this cluster of nerves, and each inner caress drove Sakura closer to the brink of total ecstasy. She silently urged him to take her there—she seemed unable to summon the words to command him to do so. But it was clear that Kakashi could tell she was close to climaxing: his movements grew more regular as she constricted around him.

She was losing control. She was crying out something, but she wasn't in control of the sounds she was making or even aware if they were words. It had been so long since she'd been fucked like this, fucked hard and with complete abandon. She was coming—

"Scream my name."

"Huh? Ka—"

"_Yuki_. _Scream_ it, damn it!"

"No. No! I'm com—"

"Imagine it's Yuki. Scream like you screamed every time he fucked you. Do it, Sakura." This whispered order was hoarse with urgency.

"Yuki…"

"Louder." Kakashi's movements were rapid fire now, and Sakura shuddered against him as she began to climax violently.

"Yuki!"

"Scream it, Sakura. Tell me how much you want your Yuki. Let me hear it." Kakashi's voice echoed down the trash-strewn alley.

Was this for the audience? Sakura's cognitive abilities slipped away as she reached the pinnacle of her climax.

"YukI! Damn you! YUKI!

* * *

"You're protected, right?"

Those were his only words to her as they redressed and headed home. She nodded and hugged herself. They were both sated, and subdued as a result, that much was apparent. But something was wrong. Kakashi was still angry. He held himself rigidly, and when he spoke his words were clipped.

"I'm sorry—"

"We'll talk later." Kakashi glanced around them, and satisfied that their audience had dispersed, broke away from Sakura and quickened his pace. With his long stride he'd be home long before she would, and she found she had no desire to run to keep up with him.

Sakura had no idea what had happened back there. They'd had sex, yes, and that had been her fault on two counts—neglecting to give Kakashi vital information, and then crossing the line while they playacted to mitigate her error. But she couldn't distinguish which parts of the acting were real and which were a fiction created for the benefit of Izumi's men. Kakashi had been so adamant that she say Yuki's name, that she scream it. That must have been for the onlookers, but somehow, it didn't feel that way. Kakashi had seemed so angry when he demanded it.

The medic walked slowly, replaying the torrid scene in her mind several times before she reached the back door of the clinic building. The apartment was empty at first glance, apart from the soot black kitten gracing the back of the living room's ratty couch, and Sakura inferred that Kakashi was in their bedroom. She entered the kitchen instead, and idled as she waited for the electric kettle to boil water for her tea. She sat on the couch, adolescent kitten curled in her lap, as she waited for Kakashi to fall asleep.

There was no point in talking about what had happened, but if he insisted on doing so, he could wait until morning. She was embarrassed at what had transpired between them, at her own lack of decorum, and fervently wished that Tsuki were with them. Not that she'd use him as some kind of shield: it was just that both of them would be on their best behavior if her son was around. They'd be civil to each other if only to spare Tsuki's feelings. Sakura sipped her tea slowly. Maybe she should sleep out here.

She shouldn't put off the inevitable. It would only make things worse. Kakashi would probably be angry if she avoided him, and if nothing else, talking to him now would satisfy her curiosity. Hopefully, she'd get some answers to her questions. Even with the information he'd given her, things still didn't make sense. Sakura opened the bedroom door, and despite her newly gathered resolve breathed a long sigh of relief as she noticed the bedroom's darkness. She'd expected Kakashi to be up reading any one of the several _Icha, Icha_ volumes she'd left on the bedside table in anticipation of his return. But he appeared to be asleep.

Wrong again. The moon moved out from behind a cloud, flooding the room with cold, bright illumination. Kakashi sat cross-legged, back against the dated, vinyl-covered headboard that dominated the room.

He still looked angry. Pissed, in fact.

"Let's start with this," he said in now familiar, clipped tones. "When were you going to tell me that your late husband was gay?"

She was silent for a while, and her voice was small when she spoke. "No one knew. I didn't think it necessary--"

"You didn't think it necessary? Since when are you the senior member of this team? That decision wasn't yours to make, Sakura, and you put the mission, and possibly my _life_ at risk. Yuki's superior knew. It must have been written in his file, because it was in the army documents that the Waterfall village mocked up-- Yuki's entire sexual history, spelled out in black and white."

"One superior knew. He was blackmailing Yuki with it. Tormenting him. He sent Jun on the mission that killed him. It wouldn't have made sense to put Yuki's sexual orientation into any official documents—any power he had over Yuki would have been lost. And since when does information like that go into a personnel file? I've seen my file from Konoha—it's not like that."

"Apparently Waterfall feels differently about such matters."

Sakura's shoulders slumped. She should have realized it—she knew how reactionary that country was when it came to sexual matters. This was a grievous error—Kakashi had every right to be angry. And he'd been right, minutes earlier, when he said it was her pride that was the cause of it. She had no regrets in marrying Yuki, but she hadn't wanted to share that aspect of her history with Kakashi, as he was too closely involved in all of it.

Kakashi looked at Sakura for a while, like a biologist observing some new species of insect. His eyebrows furrowed, and he tilted his head as he processed her words.

"Why?"

"_Why_?"

"Why would you fall in love with someone who was gay? Why did you marry _him_? Did he trick you?"

"No! Yuki wasn't like that. He told me almost right away. He—he realized I was in trouble. Waterfall isn't like Konoha—it was nothing like when Kurenai had her baby. It's a moral offense to be unmarried and pregnant. They would have forced me to get rid of it. I couldn't do that."

Kakashi continued to stare at her, but his next question was asked in a voice stripped of most anger, but not of its presumed authority. He still sat regally, the cheap upholstery of the headboard serving as a throne from which to dispense his judgment.

"You did that for Tsuki?"

"You would have done the same thing, wouldn't you?"

He continued to look at her appraisingly.

"Even if they'd let me carry him to term, he would have been seen as a bastard—as someone undeserving of full citizenship. I really wouldn't have cared if they'd ostracized me, but there was no way I could do that to my baby."

"But why Yuki?" Kakashi leaned forward, his lordly posture broken.

"You mean why a _gay_ man? He was in trouble, too. In Waterfall, homosexuality is even worse than being an unwed mother. And he wanted to be a father. He could have been one, too. He was in an arranged marriage—he could have lived a lie and done what most men in his situation do. But he was a person of _honor_."

"Sakura—" He reached for her, but she pushed his hand away. Her tears of sadness produced by recounting this story turned to a hot torrent of frustration.

"Is that why you were so angry tonight? Because you found out the man you've been impersonating was gay? Does that threaten your sexuality?"

"Sakura—" Kakashi's voice took on a threatening quality, but she didn't notice.

"I didn't think you were such a narrow-minded bigot. I can't believe—"

"Do you think I've never slept with a man?" His voice was quiet and cool, the complete opposite of hers. He slid towards her, and with a gentle motion lifted her face so that he could peer into her eyes.

"_What_?" Kakashi the womanizer slept with men?

He seemed to garner some delight in surprising her: she saw the telltale spark of fire in his eyes, although he successfully managed to suppress all other outward signs of emotion. "You heard me. I've taken on every mission ever asked of me, and yes, that has included being a whore—for both men and women, and sometimes both at the same time. Don't draw unwarranted conclusions, Sakura."

"Oh. Then…why…"

"I was angry that you lied to me. I figured you had a good reason not to tell me—I assumed you were humiliated by it, but that shouldn't have mattered. Your first responsibility is to the team. I'm your partner, and you hung me out to dry."

"I'm sorry." Sakura wrung her usually expressive hands, and was surprised when Kakashi took them in his own.

"I know. I can see that."

"So—"

"And I was jealous." He laughed bitterly as he moved closer to her, allowing one hand to lightly caress her cheek. "Of a dead man. For so long, I imagined Yuki sleeping with you, satisfying you, loving you, loving my son. And when I realized what Karai was up to—"

"What Karai was up to?"

"He and Izumi bet on us, bet on who would be seduced first."

Sakura's brow furrowed as her mind replayed her many interactions with Karai. It was news to hear of this wager, but it wasn't terribly surprising. Karai had acted so differently towards her tonight that she had concluded his prior kind behavior was a sham. "I had already realized I was wrong about him. I could have handled him. You didn't need to do the testosterone-fueled ape thing."

"I snapped, Sakura. I couldn't stand the thought of Karai touching you. Not when I—" Kakashi's words stopped short, and his muscles tensed, his jaw setting into a rigid line. He withdrew from her, his hand retreating to his side, his eyes focusing on that hatbox lying on the dresser.

"Not when you…_what_?"

He didn't answer, and from his expression it was clear to Sakura that he had no intention of doing so, regardless of how much she pushed. That was fine, she decided. There were plenty of other questions to answer.

"Why did you make me scream Yuki's name? Why did you do that if you knew the truth?"

"Because." Kakashi scratched his head. "Because I wanted to punish you. I was angry. I wanted to see you struggle with the words. I wanted to make sure that you didn't love him. That you weren't still in love with him."

"I _did_ love him, Kakashi."

"In that way."

She pushed stray strands of candy-pink hair out of her eyes and regarded him quizzically. "Why is that so important?"

"Because."

"Because?" He sounded like Tsuki—like the two-year old Tsuki, to be exact, the version who had justified every action with that single word.

"Because_ I_ love you in that way."

Sakura's eyes widened in disbelief. She nearly jumped the small distance between them, inadvertently pummeling him as she reached for his shoulders.

"You…_What_?...For how long?"

"I just figured it out this afternoon," he replied sheepishly. "although the evidence has been staring me in the face for a good couple of months."

"It's just _lust_, though. You're not cap—"

"I'm not capable?" Kakashi half smiled. "Apparently, I am."

"I'm as surprised as you are," he added after a minute or two had gone by. Sakura was still too dazed to respond, and her mind struggled to order this new information into the schema of her relationship with Kakashi. This was cognitive dissonance, she knew: if her mind were a computer, it would be smoking by now as its components fried, one after another.

"I…"

"If I wasn't capable, tonight would have been enough, right? But it's not. I'll never have enough. You're all I think about. My fantasies are about you, my dreams… and not just the sex dreams."

Her eyebrows raised in incredulity, as she found her voice. "So you're telling me that you're obsessed."

"Not obsessed. Focused. Directed. Driven."

"Semantics-- that's semantic bullshit." She moved out of his circle of personal space, reclaiming her own in the process. This had to be some rationalization he had come up with, some justification for his continuing interest in her. He should look a little harder for an explanation, she decided. She could come up with two or three without trying. Proximity, perhaps: he rarely spent extended periods of time with women, even on missions. Or encroaching middle age: his mind and body might be sending him a signal that his was time to settle down with the most convenient female in the vicinity. Or--

"No. I'm not explaining well. Sakura, I've never done this before. I haven't been in love, and I don't know the words and procedures people use. My feelings for you are not an obsession, and this is not about sex—believe me, I know what that's like. That's all I've ever known. This is different. This is about you, and Tsuki. I want to be a part of your life-- the most important part." Kakashi grabbed her hand to punctuate his plea.

"Kakashi, I already said you'd be part of Tsuki's life. I'm not going to break my word." She tried to pull away, but his grip was fast.

"I understand your reluctance, Sakura. I recognize that you can't get involved in a casual romance—not when you have Tsuki to think of. But that's not what I want either."

"You're saying…"

"I want to be your lover. For as long as you'll have me. And if you want more than that…"

_My lover._

This was what she had wanted long ago, but of the wrong man. She'd wanted this man, _this_ Kakashi, but had fallen for a corrupted, degraded version, a man incapable of loving in return.

Sakura lifted her head, and her eyes searched his artificially blue ones. Funny that they'd once reminded her of Yuki's.

"Then why…" she asked slowly, "why did you hold back before?"

"Because I didn't want to fuck you in a dirty alley." Kakashi laughed sardonically. "I didn't think you'd want that, either."

Sakura blushed furiously. She never would have guessed she was less a master of her passions than he.

"Why did you walk away?"

"I was angry that I couldn't hold back—that I didn't stop you. I wanted our first time together—sober—to be memorable in a more pleasant way. Assuming, of course—"

"That_ I_ want you?" Sakura ran her fingers through her hair, pulling at random clumps as though that would improve her decision-making process. "If you hurt Tsuki… I could never forgive you. He'll know. He's observant. He'll see something is different between us. There's no turning back from this."

She didn't object when he embraced her, his arms encircling her loosely around her waist.

"I promise. I won't hurt you, and I won't hurt our son. I can't promise I won't make mistakes, but Sakura—" Kakashi pulled her closer and buried his face against her neck. "Say yes."

This was not how she'd expected the evening would turn out. Sakura, ever analytical, chuckled at her continued misinterpretation of the world around her.

"Yes," she said after a long pause. "Yes."

* * *

This was different, he realized as soon as he kissed her. This was lovemaking. He still felt a crushing passion for Sakura, but this passion differed substantially from the brute emotions he'd felt before. This was a fuller, deeper yet also gentler emotion, almost playful. It was a slower-paced feeling, unrushed and confident, though still unrelenting. Kakashi's realized his touch was different, too. It was still expert, but more inquisitive and less automatic. It was clear to him that Sakura was relishing each caress to her body, and he carefully observed and measured her every response. He felt a certain smugness in his ability to elicit moans of pleasure from her easily, but there was more to this than simple pride. He keenly felt the need to bring her not just pleasure, but happiness, and wanted his actions to show the depth of his feelings. He wanted her to know, through his actions, that he'd spoken the truth earlier, that he wanted to stay by her side.

For Kakashi, sex had never been like this before. It was always about release, about finding a preferably nameless person to satisfy a hard-driving biological urge. If he brought someone else pleasure, it was to prolong his own, or out of a sense of masculine bravado. He'd kept track of the number of women he'd bedded for a while, and the number of orgasms he'd brought each, until the fog of nightly drunkenness had made such record-keeping impossible. But if he were selfish, his partners were equally so. They used him as he used them, and this had been fine with him. It had been a transaction of sorts, though money typically didn't change hands. Each member knew his or her role, and expectations were clearly defined.

His first night with Sakura, years ago, had been different from this norm, although even that interaction had been about physicality, not love. But that night he'd felt a novel sense of possessiveness. It was the feeling he'd experienced mere hours ago, and the same he felt now. He knew love was about much more than this, but it was undoubtedly a facet.

"You were never with anyone else, were you?" Sakura shook her head and frowned as she noted the satisfied smile that spread across his face. He might be her lover now, but he was still a bit of a pig—he readily admitted this. There was something highly satisfying about knowing he was her only partner.

"Well, then, I've got a lot to teach you."

"I'm a kunoichi, remember?" She rolled her eyes at his admittedly patronizing attitude.

"Theory and practice are quite different, my little scholar." Kakashi moved his hands to her breasts after rolling her into a female-dominant position. He kissed her through thin wrinkled fabric of her halter top, then untied it, gently this time, and moved the fabric downward slowly to gradually uncover her nakedness. "You have beautiful tits, by the way. They're perfect."

"You think so?" Sakura blushed. "They got a little bigger when I was pregnant, and I got lucky. They stayed that way."

"I'd never guess you've been pregnant." He ran his hands over her curves of her torso as his eyes appreciated her perfect symmetry. No sags, no stretch marks: her breasts were as firm and high as a teenager's. But they were real, amazingly real—soft, yet resilient and exceptionally sensitive to his every touch.

"I didn't breastfeed. I had a fever after the surgery, and was out of it for a few days. By the time I was better it was too late."

"Surgery?" Kakashi's brow furrowed with concern.

"Caesarean." She moved his fingers along the scar hidden along the top edge of the fine, clipped hair covering her pubis. "Tsuki was breech."

"Ah." He kissed his fingertip, then ran it along the fine white line again. There was so much he didn't know about her and Tsuki's past. So much he'd missed. "I'm glad both of you were safe. I wish—"

"Don't say it. We're here now, aren't we?"

His smile was colored by a relieved understanding of her acceptance. "Yes."

"Well, then, Kunoichi, let's see what you know." Kakashi lay back expectantly and laughed silently as he a flush spread slowly across Sakura's face and neck.

"I'm just kidding, you know. There's no way I'm leaving our first time together—as lovers—to an amateur."

"Amateur?" She grabbed a nearby pillow and lifted it over her head, but he easily disarmed her and in a single, smooth motion, flipped her onto her back.

"They'll be plenty of opportunity for you to show me your skills. I'm not going anywhere, and in fact, I think I'll be staying home sick tomorrow. How about you?"

"I really can't…"

"I think you'll feel differently in a little while."

"You're awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"One way to find out." Kakashi peppered Sakura's neck with kisses, which evolved slowly into languorous laps of his tongue. He aimed to cover every centimeter of her flesh, to discover every secret place of heightened sensitivity. He breathed deeply to secure her fragrance in his memory, then blew gently over each place he'd covered, the warm breeze evaporating the wetness of each kiss, and causing her to cry out in justly-deserved pleasure. She tried to kiss him in return, but he pushed her back, and with one hand clasped hers above her head.

"Let me show you how I feel about you."

He continued his full body exploration of her, caressing the slight curve of her abdomen, then moving to her thighs, and down her legs. She giggled when he reached the backs of her knees, and he gently rebuked her.

"No laughing."

"Sorry. It tickles."

Kakashi removed the strappy high-heeled sandals she wore, then sucked on each digit, observing her face as he did so.

"They're dirty."

"I don't care." He worked his way up her legs again, this time focusing on their inner surfaces, and wasn't surprised by the small moan of protest he heard as he reached her inner thighs.

"Don't say it, Sakura."

He tasted her, spreading her gently before he did so, and savoring the salty, musky flavor of her sex mixed with his own. It didn't take much to arouse her, Kakashi thought as he easily found her clitoris, and it didn't take much to bring her to an early, easy release. He grinned as Sakura squirmed under him, first moaning enchantingly, but soon begging him to enter her.

It was fun to tease her. He slid a finger into her and chuckled as she barked, "That's not what I meant!"

"Like this, then?" He leaned forward and pressed into her, entering in one swift movement. Her gasp of surprise was satisfying to him, and extremely erotic. She was so tight, and the completeness of her embrace was almost overpowering. He didn't move immediately, as he knew that would completely overload his senses, and he had no intention of ending things so soon. Kakashi waited, counting slowly to thirty before moving again, then he languorously established a slow, inexorable rhythm.

"Patience," he intoned as Sakura attempted to pull her hands free from his grasp. "Lie back and let this be about you."

"I need it harder, Kakashi."

"I'll get there. Trust me. "

He pushed her thigh toward her chest and thrust more deeply, but his movements were slow and intended to tantalize, not satisfy. She was moaning now, begging for release. He moved his attentions to her breasts, slowly circling each apex with the tip of his tongue, then licking and sucking until each nipple stood engorged and sensitive. He grasped the reddened flesh lightly between his teeth, and pulled gently while continuing to move inside of her. She came, and he noted the beauty of her face as she fully let go.

He moved more quickly within her then, thrusting deeper than before, and his breath quickly matched the ragged tempo of her own. She was coming again, but more deeply, more completely than before, and her cries of pleasure were completely free of any self-censoring consciousness. She was gorgeous, her skin flushed with passion, her eyes bright with unshed tears, her lips mouthing his name.

He kissed her, crushing her mouth with his own, bruising her lips as he claimed them, and her, as his own. He joined her in her climax, exploding with the desire unreleased in their first encounter.

Then he held her, unwilling to let go of the treasure in his midst that he hadn't noticed, hadn't appreciated until it was almost too late. They lay silently in the darkened room still intertwined in an elaborate embrace, and Kakashi was almost certain that she'd fallen asleep when he heard her voice.

"Kakashi?"

"Hmm?" He pulled her closer to himself.

"That was nice."

"Yes. It was nice."

"Are you tired?"

"Mmm. A little." Kakashi kissed her, savoring the languid sensation that still engulfed his body. "What did you have in mind?"

"Um, well…"

He had the feeling she was blushing, although the moon that had illuminated their lovemaking was long gone.

"Yes, Sakura?"

"Well, speaking of kunoichi training-- if you wanted to go all night, I think I know how we could accomplish it."

"You're on, darling. Right after I get a little shut-eye."

"You're all talk, aren't you? You said I'd feel differently after a little while with you."

"And you do, I take it. Well, I'm not surprised."

"Wipe that god-awful smirk off your face."

"What smirk? Who said I was smirking?"

"I can _hear_ it. You have no cause to smirk, if you can't deliver the goods."

"Is that a challenge? And am I your delivery boy?"

"Maybe."

"You are going to be so sorry in the morning."

"I'll just call in sick."

Kakashi laughed. He'd never expected Sakura had this playful, sensual, insatiable side to her. It was clear he had a lot of learning left to do.


	26. Chapter 26 Serendipity and Kunoichi Tea

**A Book of Five Rings **

**Chapter 26 – Serendipity and Kunoichi Tea**

"Mommy? Daddy? Are you two making a baby?"

Kakashi couldn't help but grin at the earnest, matter-of-fact way Tsuki asked this question, or at the vivid shade of crimson that flushed Sakura's face in response.

"We're—we're just kissing, honey. That's all!" The look of mortification on his lover's face as she bolted upright was absolutely priceless, Kakashi decided, particularly considering that they _hadn't_ been _just_ _kissing_. Despite her sudden movement, his hand still rested under the rumpled fabric of Sakura's blouse, and until just moments ago she'd been moaning his name, softly but distinctly. They seemed to fall into each other's arms at the oddest moments: only an hour or so before they'd been in bed together, starting their day off with a habit Kakashi found himself wishing he'd taken on years before. Daily, early morning sex with Sakura was a delight: her obvious pleasure in being awoken by his caresses was not only erotic, but empowering. He loved the fact that he turned her on so easily, and that her sex drive matched his own. This morning, after their daily romp they'd showered together, but once dressed had turned to each other, their earlier satiety completely vanished. If Tsuki had walked in on them a mere five minutes later he would have seen an object lesson in carnal bliss that might have raised a few questions in his young, impressionable mind, such as, "Why is Mommy on all fours?" or "What is Mommy doing to your chinpoko?"

Mmm. Sakura's attentions to that part of his body were the highlight of each day. Her warm, sensuous lips and her soft, cunning tongue were capable of eliciting pleasure unparalleled by any other experience. She was quite the expert, although obviously a natural talent. They may have mentioned the technique in kunoichi classes, but he was sure he would have heard about it if all female shinobi were as skilled in this area as she. She was better at this than any civilian woman he'd taken to bed, even the high class "escorts" he enjoyed when finances permitted. Sakura was so…creative, and lustful while doing him, and so damn eager to please. It was obvious that she enjoyed the small power she had over him, as well as the act itself.

Earlier this morning, he'd slowly awakened from a very provocative dream to find out that the substance of it had not been a fantasy at all. She'd already taken him in her mouth, and her tongue was working slow circles on the sensitive head of his now fully erect cock. She'd sucked and licked, gently but relentlessly, making delicious slurping noises as she did so, and faintly moaning in pleasure before taking him deeper into her than he thought physically possible. But that wasn't the best part. No, that had come afterwards, when he noticed her look of perfect happiness and heard the languid, pleasure-filled words that followed. Never before had a partner told him she liked the way he tasted, that she wanted more of him, that she longed for this particular experience. But Sakura was different, so different from everyone else.

Once Tsuki left the room he had every intention of demanding, no, asking nicely, for a repeat performance from his lovely fellatrix. Hell, he'd plead if necessary--

"Well, if you do decide to make one, I'd like a boy, please." The hopeful brother-to-be turned and skipped out of their bedroom, apparently unperturbed by his sensei's newfound closeness to his mother. No, that wasn't true, Kakashi decided. Tsuki seemed pleased by the changes to his parents' relationship in the past six weeks. Lately, he seemed to be smiling a bit more brightly than usual, as though some unspoken prayer had been answered.

"We need a lock," Sakura said absently as she smoothed hair still damp from the shower.

"I wouldn't be averse, you know," Kakashi whispered in Sakura's ear. He chuckled as her eyes widened involuntarily. "Don't look so shocked. I've told you at least a million times by now that I'm serious about this. About _us_."

"But—"

"If you don't want to, that's fine, but I'd like to make things permanent between us. And if you want another child, I'd be more than willing-- "

"You mean…marriage?" Sakura seemed dumbfounded by the suggestion.

"When we get back to Konoha. What do you think?" The copy ninja punctuated his question with a light kiss to her cheek, and waited patiently for her response.

"You're taking things pretty fast."

"I know what I want. It's called decisiveness."

"More like impulsiveness. And I thought that was _my_ characteristic."

Kakashi pushed the hair out of his eyes as he regarded Sakura quizzically. Marriage was what every girl wanted. It didn't make sense for her to be so reluctant. She'd told him that story about planning her wedding as a teen and pre-teen. Surely that dream still had some relevance to her.

"It would make Tsuki happy, I think," he suggested, and grinned with relief when Sakura responded with a small smile of agreement.

"It would. And it would make me happy, too." Sakura rose from her seat on the bed and crossed the room to the dresser, and proceeded to comb out the tangles in her hair.

"But?" He voiced the conjunction that hung in the air.

"But, do you really think…" Her voice trailed off, and the rest of her question remained unasked. That didn't matter. Kakashi was certain he knew what she was getting at.

"You're worried that I won't be able to keep such a huge commitment." The serious, downward cast of her eyes affirmed his suggestion. "You're wrong to worry. We've talked about this already, Sakura. I understand your reluctance, but I'm not going anywhere. And I'm not going to cheat on you, if that's what you're thinking."

"Being in a relationship is difficult. It won't always be like this. The euphoria will wear off. Eventually you won't be infatuated anymore."

"Is that what you think this is? This is so much more than a physical attraction. It's not just your hot, tight body that has me enchanted." Kakashi quickly crossed the room to join her, and embraced her possessively. "I love all of you. That's not going to change."

"Please. Let's wait just a little while before we tell Tsuki."

"Is that a 'yes'?"

"Did you get down on bended knee?"

Kakashi dropped to the floor immediately, positioning himself in a deep kneeling bow. "How about this?"

"Are you begging?" A stifled giggle escaped her lips.

"You mean like _you_ were this morning? Oh, right. You were on your knees for another reason."

Sakura raised an eyebrow. "You talk like a man who's willing to give up one of the finer things in life."

That would never happen, not if he had any say in the matter. The feel of Sakura's mouth was not something he'd willingly give up.

"Not at all," he replied smoothly, doing his best to appear unruffled by her veiled threat. "And for the record, I _am_ willing to beg."

"Wow," she responded dryly as she pulled her hair back, a look of mockery in her aventurine eyes. "This proposal is about as romantic as my first."

Kakashi felt his good mood deflate slightly at this statement. No matter how loving Sakura's relationship was with her late husband, Kakashi did not appreciate being compared to the man.

"I'll have to fix that, then." His eyes widened slightly as he glanced at the clock. "Kuso. Gotta run. I'll be working late tonight, but let's pick this up when I get home."

"I can't believe you have to work. It's Sunday—even I have the day off."

"I think we'll be heading out to Mizu soon. Izumi seems antsy—must have to do with reporting to her father and the board. She seems to be concerned about their judgment. "Oh?"

"It's impossible to read her. Glad she's decided I'm not worth pursuing, thanks to that info about Yuki."

Kakashi bounded out of the apartment after giving Sakura a quick, but intense kiss and promising he'd be back as soon as possible. . Champagne or sake, he guessed, was in order, and flowers. Hopefully, he'd have a chance to take care of such details before the day was out. Izumi was eager to finish preparations for their next, and hopefully last, trip. They'd be visiting a number of the minor nations before heading on to Mizu. Then, finally, this mission would be over. He couldn't wait to head back home to Konoha to show off his family.

* * *

"Tsuki? What's wrong?" Sakura leaned from her bedroom window to call to her son who was sitting, knees clenched to chest, in the yard below. His face, dirty despite the early hour, bore evidence of his upset, its soil-tanned surface streaked pink by tears.

"Susu ran away." The boy erupted into messy sobs as he related the story. Between gasping, stuttering breaths Sakura was able to put together some semblance of a story: Tsuki had taken the adolescent cat outdoors to show him how well he could climb the tree. Susu had followed him, then leaped from branch to wall to the road beyond their yard.

"Wait there-- I'll be right down. We'll go look for him, okay?" She set her tea cup on the windowsill after quickly draining its contents. Emergency or not, she couldn't forget to finish the nasty concoction of several potent herbs.

"I don't understand why he ran away," her son sniffed as she joined him. "Doesn't he like me?"

"Maybe he saw a squirrel, or a mouse. Cats have a strong instinct, you know. It can override things like simple affection. Which direction do you think he went?"

Tsuki shrugged, and from the crumpled expression on his face Sakura knew he was close to tears again.

"Let's think, then. Remember last time? Didn't Sensei say you should think like a cat to find him?"

"Maybe he went to the shrine again."

"Good thinking. I'll bet you're right." They hurried to the dilapidated shrine at the edge of town, which appeared to be even more run-down in daylight. The stairs were a bit more moss-covered than she remembered, and today it seemed like there were more of them. She was winded after climbing only half the distance from the street to the chipped, red painted torii at the top of the stairs.

She should have stuck with the kendo lessons, Sakura thought wryly. Too much time in the clinic, and not enough training were taking a toll on her body. She was clearly out of shape. But out of deference to Kakashi, she hadn't taken Tsuki back to the dojo. Instead, he and his father practiced almost daily, assuming Kakashi was not away on business. Sakura rarely participated. Instead she was content to sit under their favorite willow and watch the two of them. Tsuki's moves were a perfect mimic of Kakashi's, and Sakura often found herself wondering how much he would resemble his father as he grew up.

Now Sakura sat on the shallow steps to catch her breath, waving Tsuki on ahead of her. "Don't be too loud when you approach, honey. You don't want to spook Susu." She joined her son a couple of minutes later, and smiled when she saw the cat rolling in a patch of what was likely catnip. She plucked a small sprig and inhaled. This explained why the cat had been here twice. From the crushed plants surrounding him, it seemed obvious that this was a very popular meeting place for the local feline population. Sakura smiled as she glanced at her son who had captured and was now holding the gangly-legged, intoxicated cat.

"Can we stay for a while, Mom? It's so pretty here."

She had to agree, both with Tsuki's request and with his observation. Though run-down, it was obvious that this once had been a lovely shrine. A couple of outbuildings still stood, one likely the residence of the last priest and his family. An overgrown herb garden stood before the small building, and Sakura quizzed herself on the medicinal value of each plant as she knelt down to examine each one. Here was valerian, good for anxiety, and schisandra, the perfect herb for memory loss. And elecampane, if she wasn't mistaken. She'd seen only pictures of it, previously. Sakura pulled a few sprigs from each questionable plant, as well as flowers from certain other plants. She'd have to ask Katayama sensei for help confirming their identities, as her herbal medicine book had been turned into a safe months before by Kakashi. She was still a bit irked by that. For a book lover, Kakashi's action had been downright reckless, if not heretical.

Sakura noticed a creeping, bluish-leaved plant on the other side of the bed. Maidens' mallow? What perfect timing. She'd used up most of it, gathered on the first day of their mission, in the vile kunoichi tea she consumed weekly. Only a sprig or two remained.

Sakura reclined against a mossy rock as she thought back to the day they'd set out on the mission together. That time seemed to have been torn from another life. She remembered the feelings of misery at the thought of a months-long mission with Kakashi. He had done his best to bow out of it, but that wasn't enough to mitigate her feelings of anger and contempt for the man. Kakashi was another person then, someone she distrusted, someone who embodied the biggest mistake of her life. He had made things worse, adding insult and shock to her anger when he appeared before her as a facsimile of Yuki, his dyed hair and colored eyes a denigration of her husband's memory. His burgeoning relationship with her son had also annoyed her. It seemed then that she'd just embarked upon a nightmare, a downward, endless spiral of further indignities.

Things were so different now.

She had changed, and so had Kakashi. She'd had broken out of the shell of anger and bitterness that had encased her for over five years, and he had taken down the tall thick wall of inebriation and dissipation he'd built so resolutely over the years. She never would have guessed, five years earlier, that this would happen, that both of them would change so dramatically. She couldn't have predicted that circumstances would resolve themselves so neatly. And yet they had. All of them—all three of them—were happy, and Sakura was certain she'd made the right decision in saying yes to Kakashi weeks earlier. They'd been on a honeymoon of sorts for the past month and half, the type of honeymoon, filled with intimacy, openness and sexual gratification, that she'd bypassed when she married Yuki. Sakura had been so happy then just to have love in her life that she'd been ready to say goodbye to intimate, all-encompassing love. In fact, she'd been happy to bid it well since she was certain that it had nothing to offer her except more pain.

But she was wrong about what love offered. Now she couldn't imagine not waking up in Kakashi's arms, or dreaming of being reunited with him, should a mission separate them temporarily. She had no pretensions about what the future might hold. It was full of uncertainty, like the future of every shinobi. One of them could die on a mission. Kakashi was more likely to than she: he faced class S-missions routinely while she merely healed others. Still, the thought of a future together, however short, was one she cherished. She had not thought such a relationship was destined for her.

Still, she worried about her decision to be with him. It was clear that the Kakashi of this morning—of the past six weeks, in fact—had every intention of staying true to her. But men were temperamental creatures, more so than her sex, although less maligned for it. Men were physical, visually-oriented beings that, above all craved, novelty. Even if Sakura were to keep her good looks (courtesy of a jutsu from Tsunade she'd never before considered using) Kakashi would eventually be tempted by someone younger, or prettier, or merely someone different. And likely, he'd give in to that temptation. She'd read in some scholarly paper that men were biologically incapable of monogamy, that the urge to pass on ones genetic material as widely as possible outstripped logical thought or emotional ties. Of course, for all she knew the person who wrote this might have been a dilettante, seeking a published excuse for his loutish behavior. Kakashi was a man of honor, unlike most. If he said he would be true, he would be. He'd never lied to her about the things that mattered, not the things he had any control over.

"Mom? Wake up. I think we should be going." Tsuki pointed to the north, where clouds dark with moisture were gathering. "Dad said the rainy season would be starting soon. He's always right, isn't he?"

"Was I sleeping?" She ran her hand across her cheek and felt the impression of her hair upon its surface. Apparently she'd been dozing for some time.

"You're so funny. You need a nap, but I don't!" Tsuki ran around in her in circles as she rose to her feet, yawning.

This was the result, no doubt, of time spent with Kakashi that should have been spent sleeping. He was keeping her up late every night. Not that she could share that with Tsuki.

"You never needed a nap, not even when you were a baby." Sakura grabbed the overactive child in a fierce hug, and smiled as she remembered the wakeful infant she had held in her arms. He would look in her eyes contentedly after finishing his bottle, and refuse to fall asleep, no matter how much she rocked him or cooed to him. The four-year-old version of him was not much different, she realized.

"Let's get going. Do you think Susu will let you hold him while we run?"

* * *

"That's not elecampane. I can see how you'd be confused."

Katayama-sensei sat in her small office, the herbs Sakura had gathered scattered across her otherwise immaculate desk. She picked up a flowering stem of the plant in question and pointed out the structure of the flower. "Elecampane doesn't look like a sunflower—it has only ray flowers. Plus, its stem isn't shiny, like this one. This is Grindelia. See how its sap is sticky and white? It's an excellent expectorant and a sedative. Good for flu and head colds."

Sakura blushed. She should have known that, even if she'd never actually seen the plant before. She wished once again that she still possessed the oversized book of herbs she'd lugged all the way here. Unlike Kakashi, she didn't have a photographic memory. She could remember information easily, but not pictures. And these two plants were far too similar.

"And I see you've found some dwarf mallow."

"Dwarf mallow?"

"Wonderful for sore throats. You found this up at the shrine, didn't you? I should go up there and gather some. I'm almost out, and with the rain that's coming, I expect we'll be seeing more patients with respiratory problems."

"Is that what you call that here—dwarf mallow? I thought it was maiden's mallow. And I didn't know it could be used in throat medicines."

"Do you mean creeping mallow? The one used for its contraceptive effects? They're completely different, my dear. For one thing, that mallow has reddish-orange flowers. This one has lilac. Of course, neither is blooming yet, so that's a moot point. But even their leaves are somewhat different. Creeping mallow's are more heart shaped, and less toothed than this. And less hairy."

"Excuse me for just a moment." Sakura quickly ran up the stairs to her own apartment and returned with her apothecary chest. She opened a tiny drawer and pulled out the last leaf of the herb she'd been relying on for the past few months. "So what is this herb?"

"Dwarf mallow, definitely. Sakura, is everything okay?"

Sakura sank into the chair opposite her mentor and breathed a sigh heavy with embarrassment. This explained why a simple sprint up the stairs had left her heaving for breath, and why the run back home had turned into a rain-sodden walk. This was the very herb she'd been using for the past few months in her kunoichi tea. The wrong herb.

"You're not …expecting, are you?"

"I have no idea. I've had my period the past two months, but it was much lighter than normal. I was so happy—usually it's horrible." She shook her head in confusion. "The thing is, I really don't _feel_ pregnant." The fullness she'd experienced in her abdomen early on with Tsuki was missing. She'd felt the same way she typically felt before getting her period each month, as though a weight had been placed on her belly.

"No morning sickness?"

"No. And my breasts aren't sore, not really."

"Second pregnancies are often different from the first." Katayama sensei frowned, her eyes becoming buried under a field of wrinkles. "If you're only a month or two along, it will be pretty hard to tell. I can do an exam, if you like…"

"No, that's okay. I'll wait."

Sakura headed up to the apartment as quickly as possible, looked in on Tsuki who, predictably, was busy with his cat, then grabbed a book from the living room bookcase and locked herself into the bathroom. She stripped, and looked at herself critically in the medicine cabinet mirror. Maybe her breasts were a little bigger, she thought, and maybe their venation was a bit more distinct. But her belly? She stood on tiptoe to get a better view in the small mirror. Still flat, perfectly so, as befit a kunoichi, even one who'd slacked off on her exercise of late. Sakura dropped carefully to the floor and sat crossed-legged on its cold tiles as she paged through the oversized book Tsunade had given her before she left the village the first time. She quickly found the medical jutsu she needed, and read it several times before lying down on the linoleum and moving her hands through the necessary seals.

With her innate chakra control, it was easy to summon the prodigious amount of energy needed to magnify any novel signature emanating from her body. She recognized it at once—a tiny, swirling flow of chakra quite different from her own. There was no doubt now. She was definitely pregnant.

How ironic this was, given Kakashi's comments earlier in the day. But Sakura had nothing to worry about, this time. Unlike the Kakashi of five years ago, this one would be delighted to learn of her pregnancy. The feeling of trepidation she'd felt upon learning of her first pregnancy was blessedly absent. She'd have no worries this time, no concerns over raising a child alone, or being shunned for such an obvious display of sexuality. She'd be in Konoha to give birth to him or her, and the community would welcome this child as its own. And as both Sakura's and Kakashi's. A feeling of delight began to stir in her, a tiny seedling of hope and expectation that unfurled tendrils of joy as it grew and blossomed within her. Such serendipity.

But this _was_ too soon, as far as she was concerned. She'd hoped for a slow, steady progression of her connection to Kakashi, so that they could strengthen their relationship before subjecting it to any outside stress. But life rarely unfolded the way anyone expected. Really, she had nothing to worry about. Kakashi was a man of his word, after all. He'd be a good parent to this child, just as he'd proven himself to be with Tsuki.

Sakura dressed, and shook her head as she considered her own stupidity. She should have realized she was pregnant. Her condition fully explained her sudden need for naps, and the breathlessness resulting from the slightest exertion.

"Tsuki?" She entered her son's room to find him asleep in his bed, cat curled in his arms. He must have worn himself out playing. It was unlike him to need a midday nap, and unlike her, he couldn't use the excuse of early pregnancy to explain his sleepiness.

She went into the kitchen without him, and began to pull items from the cupboard. An announcement like this merited a special dinner. Perhaps she could sweet talk the grocer into a bag of glutinous rice, some nori and a filet of fresh fish. Temakizushi would be the perfect dinner, she decided, simple but festive.

* * *

"Looks like we're almost finished." If Kakashi wore a watch, he would have been glancing at it constantly for the past hour or so. Izumi seemed to enjoy finding excuses for him to stay a bit longer each time he asked to leave. Kakashi shifted in his chair, and gently kicked the shopping bag he'd placed under his desk to confirm it was still there. The sake would be fine, but the bouquet of flowers he'd bought (mixed, as he really had no idea about Sakura's floral preferences) was probably half-wilted by now. It was at least nine p.m., and he was growing annoyed.

"Oh, I've got a couple more things I'd like you to take care of. Could you go back to the main house and ask Karai for my calendar? I think I left it there." Izumi twisted her long, curly hair into a knot, securing it sloppily with a pencil, and exposing yet another pair of oversized dangling earrings. They'd be the perfect toy for Susu, Kakashi mused, sparkly, attention-grabbing and over-the-top tacky.

An errand boy was what Kakashi seemed to be, lately. A nearly middle-aged errand boy, run ragged by the capricious demands of a temperamental boss. Wasn't Karai supposed to be Izumi's dogsbody? That was the role she'd described when relating the job to Kakashi months before. But Karai was probably slacking off, most likely chatting up daimyou's young wife. She was his type, after all: young, attractive, attached. Perhaps his serpentine ways would work on that woman. She might be fond of reptiles, after all.

Kakashi slouched his way to and from the main house, as he was in no hurry to return to yet another piece of unnecessary work. He returned to the small building that housed his desk (he was not important enough, it seemed, to merit an office nearby Izumi's) and sighed mightily as he opened the door.

There was Izumi, sitting on his desk, blouse open, legs crossed to reveal a definite lack of undergarments, a half-drunk bottle of sake in her hand. _His_ sake, if he was not mistaken. She twirled a flower in the other hand and smirked as he approached her. The bouquet wrapper, he noticed, was thrown on the floor, along with several flowers that apparently were not to her taste.

Kakashi felt the bile surge into his mouth, and tasted its bitterness. So much for a romantic evening with Sakura. The package store would be closed by the time he left the compound, and the open-air florist had packed up hours earlier. Apart from that, Sakura was probably asleep by now. He'd worked late every day the past week, and found her asleep each time he arrived home. True, she woke up when he joined her in bed, and was as eager as he to make the best of their abbreviated evenings together, but she seemed to be tired. He smiled to himself. Most likely he was wearing her out.

"I had lost hope in you, after that horrible report from my information gatherer."

Great. Just great. He had hoped the information about Yuki's sexual preferences might have put her off a bit. After his performance with Sakura in the alley, he assumed Izumi would conclude that he was bi. That would work to his advantage: so many women were turned off by men with such wide-ranging tastes. It played to their insecurities. This wasn't true for many men, of course, who fantasized about the analogous situation, equating bisexuality with a propensity for boy-on-girl-on-girl threesomes. Apparently, Izumi didn't subscribe to these insecurities, either. Of course, she wasn't like most women. She had a pair much larger than most men, Kakashi guessed.

"To be honest, Sakura's the only woman who's ever really appealed to me." This was true, in part. Sakura did appeal to him in a different way than women past. She spoke to all of him, not just to his libido. Unlike every woman he'd used in the past, Sakura was not a warm body to fuck and cast aside hours later. She was more than a diversion, guilty pleasure, or escape. She'd become an integral part of his life, and not just because of Tsuki. She and Kakashi complemented each other: her spontaneity balanced his premeditation, and her empathy warmed the colder side of his nature. She'd changed him—changed the course of his life. Without her influence, a life on the streets fishing bottles from trash cans might have been the penultimate station on his journey to oblivion. He had wanted that, once, wanted to punish himself for the sin of surviving. Finding joy in life was an insult to those he failed to protect, an unpardonable affront to their memory. But it was his unrelenting desire to perish that was the real abomination. He saw that now. There was no better way to honor those he loved than to love another. And there was no better way to protect the village he'd vowed to uphold than to build it. He was part of a chain, one link in the catena that bonded Fire's past, present, and future. He had Sakura, his most precious person, to thank for this ultimate realization.

"I'm hungry."

"Hungry?" Errand boy was now delivery boy it seemed. She'd probably ask for something from a restaurant that didn't do take out, leaving him to grovel at the kitchen door. Or maybe she'd ask for something out of season. This seemed to be some kind of game for her. Either she was seeing how far she could push him, or trying to figure out if she could really trust him.

It was probably the latter. Whenever talk turned to Mizu, she became agitated. Karai had successfully riled her a few times just by mentioning her father's name. She was the type to close ranks when threatened, Kakashi realized. It would be more important than ever to stay in her good graces. To do otherwise might result in being left out of this next trip.

"For sex, that is. I'm hungry for sex. There's no one in town who's appropriate." Izumi's face twisted into a smile that was probably intended to be seductive. Her catlike eyes narrowed into golden slits as she purred his name. "Except you, Yuki…Yuki-kun."

Damn it. She was drunk. How had she accomplished that in the fifteen minutes he'd been gone was a mystery. She must have been drinking earlier in the day. Maybe she'd had a four-martini lunch.

"Don't you like me?" She slid off the desk and approached him, a feline stalking its prey. Kakashi suddenly realized what it felt like to be the pursued, to be the object of unwanted advances. This was the workplace harassment he had been warned about years before in the few sex-segregated classes set aside for male shinobi. Like every kunoichi who'd experienced it before him, he found himself in a difficult situation. He didn't want to push her away or do anything to antagonize her, not when the most critical part of his job was undone. The key portion of the mission was immediately before him. His role would be over in a matter of weeks. The head of the ring would be taken down, along with all its key players. He just needed to get to that point safely.

But there was also Sakura to consider. He hadn't lied that morning when he told her he wouldn't cheat. He had no interest in other women, and particularly not Izumi. She was completely unappealing to him, despite attributes that would have made him drool only months earlier.

He backed away from Izumi, moving slowly away from her until he reached the wall behind him. He clenched the chair rail at his back as he thought through his options. He needed to finesse this, to let her down easy. He tried not to cringe at the feel of Izumi's fingers twisting into the knit fabric of his shirt.

"Even if you are happily married, that doesn't mean…" She ran her hands down his torso, stopping at his belt. She fingered the elastic band of the sweat pants he wore, then locked eyes with him. "It's not cheating if you don't initiate it, right?"

"Well, no, actually. It _is_--"

She slid to her knees, and rested her head just below his abdomen. He felt the warmth of her flesh through the thick knit fabric of his pants.. Damn his body. It couldn't help but respond to her.

"Part of you wants this, I see." He heard the amusement in her voice and shuddered involuntarily. He reached for her head and attempted to push her back, succeeding only in knocking the pencil from the loose bun she'd created, causing her golden hair to cascade around her.

"I just want to give you a little pleasure. You don't need to pay me back. Just relax and enjoy it."

* * *

"Where's Daddy?"

"I forgot." Sakura slapped her hand to her forehead. Here was yet another symptom of pregnancy, one that she'd experienced before: forgetfulness. She'd gone through much of her first in a fog of confusion, fettered by a loss of short term memory. That aspect of pregnancy seemed to be repeating itself. "Daddy said he needed to work late." She glanced at the elaborate table setting she'd laid out. She'd even gone to the trouble of borrowing special plates from Sensei. "Well. How about if we take dinner to him?"

"A surprise? I love surprises!" Tsuki bounded across the room, eager to participate.

"It's pretty late, though, and you look tired. Maybe we should just stay here. I can wake you up when he gets home."

"No. No!" Tsuki looked at her imploringly. "Please, Mommy?" His face had flushed with emotion. Sakura noted the spots of color high on his cheeks.

"Okay. But we won't stay long. It's really too late for you to be out.

They walked the distance to the compound slowly, Sakura mindful of her need to take it easy. Tsuki didn't seem to mind. That he was tired was obvious from the listless way he munched the onigiri she'd given him. She should have fed him hours earlier, but she was so caught up in preparing a special meal that she had lost track of him, and of time.

Oh, well. One late meal was not the end of the world. She pushed the "bad mom" feelings to the back of her mind as they approached the gate and its solitary guard.

"I'm looking for my husband, Musashi. He works for Izumi."

"Right—Musashi. The one she calls Yuki. He should be in the counting house. Third building on your left. The one with the metal grates on the windows."

Unlike the surrounding buildings, the counting house was lit. A bank of windows faced the walkway, but no door. The windows were barred, as the guard had indicated, but narrow, and too high off the ground for her to see through. She walked to the side of the building and raised her hand to rap on the door she found. This entrance had a window as well, also barred, oblong and narrow, but it was low enough for her to peer through. She did so, and immediately dropped the bento she'd packed.

Kakashi's eyes were closed, his arms spread apart, knuckles white as they grasped a railing behind him. His face was hard to read, as it usually was. He seemed to be experiencing a mixture of pain and pleasure. But the meaning of his expression became evident as Sakura stood on her toes and glanced downward. A woman, none other than Izumi, knelt before him, her abundant curls shimmering in the harsh fluorescent glare as her head moved slowly and erratically forwards and back. Izumi's billowing, golden hair fully blocked her actions from view, but there was no question in Sakura's mind about what was happening.

Sakura turned from the door and grabbed Tsuki's hand, but not before kicking aside the now useless bento. She blinked tears away and did her best to retain her composure. Tsuki was a smart kid. He'd realize something was wrong if she didn't pull herself together immediately.

"Mommy? Something's wrong."

"Tsuki? I—I really can't—" She pulled his arm. "Let's go."

"I feel sick." Her son doubled over and emptied his stomach.

Sakura stared in horror for the second time that evening. Her son was ill and she hadn't even noticed. She picked Tsuki up, using her own shirt to wipe the vomit from his face. He had a fever, too, she realized. Fairly high. She'd been mooning over a man who cheated on her while her son suffered. She'd been so wrapped up in her own concerns that she'd neglected the most important person to her. What else had she missed over the past six weeks?

"I'm sorry, Tsuki. Let's get you home."

Home. She wanted to be home. She couldn't wait for this mission to be over.


	27. Chapter 27 Storm

**A Book of Five Rings **

**Chapter 27 – Storm**

"Sakura? Is everything okay? Why are you sleeping on the floor?"

The kunoichi medic stretched and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the light flooding in from the living room.  
"Tsuki's sick. Food poisoning, I think," she said through a yawn. "Maybe salmonella. He's got a fever, vomiting, cramps, you name it. He's going to have a rough night."

She'd been crying, Kakashi noticed. Her eyes were puffy and red, their irises a slightly bluer shade of green than usual. Her tears were recent, too. Her lashes were still clumped into twin, spiky crowns and remained shiny with moisture. She seemed to be over whatever had upset her however, or was trying her best to hide it.

Sakura didn't appear to be particularly upset, just a bit concerned about her son. He relaxed. For a moment he'd thought something was terribly wrong with the boy. Food poisoning could be serious, but Sakura was more than capable of taking care of Tsuki's malady, given her level of medical expertise. His son was in very good hands. But regardless of this, Kakashi wanted to do his part. He wondered how long Tsuki had been sick. Possibly all day, he imagined. Sakura was probably exhausted. She likely needed a rest in a nice soft bed, not on the ersatz bedroll she'd laid on the hard wooden floor.

"Can I help?"

"No." Sakura sat up, pulling a threadbare blanket around herself as she waved her hand dismissively. "I've been giving him ginger tea to calm his stomach, but he can't keep it down yet. I can't give him willow bark for the fever yet—it will only nauseate him more. So I need to keep an eye on him and keep his temperature down."

"I could do that for him. Why don't you get some rest?"

It was easy to see that Tsuki was feverish. His silver-white hair was darkened to grey by the sweat pasting it to his face, and his cheeks were flushed. Kakashi looked on as Sakura brushed wet locks from her child's forehead and marveled at the tenderness of her caress. It was different than the way she touched _him_, full of a different type of love, that of two people bonded by blood. A mother's love for her son seemed infinitely strong. Unbreakable.

"Do you know how to keep a fever down without medicine?" Her voice contradicted the emotion of this caress. It was almost combative and critical in tone. She busied herself with stripping sweat-dampened sheets from the boy's bed, clucking with concern as she did so.

"A cold compress, maybe?"

"That might bring it down a degree or two. Chakra application is needed to do the rest. I assume you don't know how." Her gaze was as confrontational as her words. But she was right. His chakra-related skills, though considerable, were limited to combat maneuvers and the most basic of first aid. He could mend small wounds with healing chakra, but that was the extent of his expertise

"You could teach me." The copy ninja pulled the contact lens from his left eye and felt his Sharingan react to the sudden light. "I'm a quick study."

"I need to do this." She turned away from him as she spoke, focusing her attention solely on her son as she gently moved him aside to put new sheets, these patterned with happy, large-eyed monsters, on his bed. She kissed her still sleeping son again, her lips brushing his forehead in an impossibly gentle caress. "I haven't been a very good mother lately." She said this so softly that Kakashi almost didn't hear.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Please, go to bed. We can talk in the morning."

"Is something else wrong?"

Her response was an appraising one, a searching look that seemed to plumb the fathoms of his psyche. She frowned then slowly shook her head, her sleep-mussed hair trembling about her.

"No," she said, finally. "Nothing's wrong." Her voice seemed flat, almost devoid of emotion, but perhaps that was due to being awakened. "Goodnight, then." Something besides Tsuki was bothering her, although her concern for him was itself troubling. Not his sickness-- Kakashi was sure Sakura had that under control. But how she could consider her mothering skills lacking was beyond him. He closed the door carefully and crossed the sparsely furnished living room, pausing as he noticed the table, finely set with an elegant dining service. Clearly she'd gone to a lot of trouble with dinner. So had Tsuki. He'd made placecards for each setting, writing their names in childishly drawn characters and decorating their borders with oddly colored shuriken. Maybe Sakura was upset that he'd gotten home so late—there was no sign of leftovers in the refrigerator, and strangely, not a scrap in the trash. He was annoyed himself at how the evening had turned out. He'd wanted to wow Sakura with a proper proposal, but instead had drifted in at this late hour. Damn Izumi.

He still hadn't thanked Sakura properly for the books she'd given him. Sure, Kakashi's eyes had lit up when he'd seen the collection, but it was obvious she'd gone to great trouble to procure them. A simple 'thank you' wasn't enough. He should have done more to show his appreciation. It was a huge gesture after all, a signal that she'd forgiven the humiliating event that had precipitated the burning of his first collection.

Maybe Sakura was feeling unappreciated. There was nothing he could do about that. Late in the evening Izumi had proclaimed they'd be leaving the day after next. That meant he only had a single day with Sakura, assuming she wasn't working. But of course, she would be. And even if she weren't he doubted Tsuki would be well enough to allow Sakura to leave home for a romantic dinner in a village restaurant.

He'd just have to find some other way to make it up to her.

Kakashi stripped and showered before climbing into bed, immediately noticing the loneliness of his surroundings. The room felt cavernously large without her presence, the bed cold despite the evening's humid warmth. He'd miss Sakura horribly over the coming month. Hell, he missed her already.

He wanted to make love to her. He wanted the sweet comfort of Sakura's embrace and to experience the complete union they'd achieved daily over the month and a half they'd been intimate. He wanted to love her, to caress and fondle every part of her, to show her by his actions what he'd been trying to say that morning. And he wanted this even more after the horrible evening he'd experienced. Standing there unable to respond while Izumi drank sake and spoiled flowers meant for Sakura was a miserable experience. He had felt powerless to act, as the mission depended on him getting close to Izumi. But being groped and solicited by that woman had been even harder to take. Still, he was sure he'd done the right thing despite the possible consequences.

Kakashi rolled over in bed and cleared his mind of the negative thoughts Izumi brought forth in him, instead refocusing on the woman he loved more than anyone else. If he couldn't have her tonight, then he would tomorrow. He'd give her the romantic proposal she had alluded to and allay the sudden sadness he'd seen in her eyes tonight. And perhaps they wouldn't wait to return to Konoha to be married. Maybe they'd return to their hometown, hand in hand in hand, as husband, wife and child. He smiled as he slowly lost fell into a restless, dream-filled sleep.

He couldn't wait to go home.

* * *

"Coming!" Sakura hurried to the front door dressed only in her customary nighttime attire of boxers and t-shirt, both Kakashi's, she reminded herself. She needed to purchase some proper nightclothes, a bathrobe at the very least. She flung the door open impatiently. It was far too early for visitors.

"Sensei?"

"I know you're not due at the clinic for several more hours, but could you come downstairs now? I have a patient needing stitches who is asking for—no, demanding-- a 'plastic surgeon,' whatever that is."

"Tsuki's sick. I was hoping—"

"I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important. I don't have your surgical skills. And this woman…"

Sakura noticed the apprehension in the elder healer's eyes. She'd never seen Katayama-sensei anything but relaxed and upbeat, even when the more troublesome cases presented themselves. But right now she seemed unnerved, almost as though she'd been threatened. That was absurd, of course. She was a well-loved, integral part of the community. People literally owed her their lives.

"Okay. I'll just tell Ka—my husband."

Kakashi was still sleeping, she realized, as she entered their bedroom. Her brow furrowed as she looked at him. Sunlight glinted off the poorly cut hair that swept over his Sharingan eye, fully covering the scar that partly bisected the left side of his face. His mouth was slightly open and fully relaxed, lips looking as soft as she knew they felt. He resembled an innocent boy, the Tsuki of a few years from now, a soldier still vulnerable through inexperience. This contrasted boldly with the masculine posture he displayed. Although unconscious, he dominated the bed, lying spread eagle. The top sheet was crumpled around his waist, revealing a well-muscled chest crisscrossed with the souvenirs of countless battles, some more faded than others, as well as some that clearly had been life threatening. His morning erection was quite apparent through the thin fabric of the sheet, and the movements of the eye not covered by a shock of silver straw revealed that he was in the midst of REM sleep. He was probably having a sex dream starring his slutty boss Sakura decided, strangely relishing the crushing feeling of disappointment this image unleashed within her. The man emanated a pure sexuality that accosted her as she walked towards him, arousing her in spite of her newfound antipathy towards him. Maybe it was pheromones or some other substance she detected on a purely unconscious, uncontrollable level. There was definitely something magnetic about him—no wonder he attracted women the way a carcass attracted flies.

"Kakashi?" He bolted upright immediately, eyes opening wide and dilating, despite the bright light filtering in through filmy curtains. Sakura guessed that after so many years in the field an adrenalin pulse was an every morning occurrence for him, an adaptation necessary for survival.

"Could you mind Tsuki for a little while? Sensei needs me downstairs. Some type of emergency. I'll be back before you need to go to work."

"You don't even need to ask, Sakura." Kakashi stretched, revealing even further the details of his well-defined musculature. Of course I will. I'm off work today, anyway."

"He'll be thirsty when he wakes. Give him ice chips first. If he tolerates them, lukewarm water and ginger tea, whichever he can keep down. Then, maybe some crackers or rice. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Kakashi nodded. "I'll find you if there's a problem."

Sakura threw on clothes and ran through her morning ablutions, pulling her hair into a sloppy ponytail before dashing downstairs. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the plate glass window of the clinic door and smiled wryly. She looked as bad as she felt, which wasn't surprising considering that she'd spent the night alternately caring for Tsuki and crying as quietly as possible. She'd mastered that trick years ago. After Yuki died there had been late night tears, times when her grief and loneliness had been inconsolable. But her sobs had the unfortunate tendency to wake Tsuki, even if he were in another room. As it was hard to get her infant son to fall asleep, once down, he needed to _stay_ down. She'd therefore learned to release her tearful emotions in a controlled, slow manner, although she often woke to find her pillow torn into fluffy shreds. Last night was no exception. Tsuki's room looked like it had experienced a small, targeted blizzard—clumps of tear-dampened feathers littered the thin pallet on which she'd slept.

The trick to sorrow was to give in—to let her body experience the emotions she was feeling. Avoiding them would do no good at all. It was better to feel the hurt now than to let if fester, like an untended wound, into something far more malignant. It was a lot like being seasick. She first experienced that malady on the trip she took with the rest of team seven to Snow Country. A storm had rocked their large, wooden craft halfway through their journey. Rough seas had relentlessly buffeted the ship, which seemed to jump from crest to crest of the roiling waves. Sakura tried to tough out the nausea and dizziness this movement produced in her, refusing to succumb to the endless rolling and rocking of the ship. But denying that she had a problem made it even worse. Finally, green-faced and far sicker than she might have been, she gave in. She took to her hammock bed, letting the ship swing her forward and back in a creaking, shifting lullaby. She gave in to the sensations all around her, but in an orderly manner, slowly allowing the sounds and movements of the schooner to enter her consciousness. She gave in to the nausea as well, for once allowing herself to fully feel her body's distress. Eventually, her body attuned its response. She grew numb, inured to the pitching of the ship.

Last night's distress would resolve itself in the same way. Her body and soul couldn't cry forever.

It only took Sakura a moment or two to discern the identity of the woman sitting on the table in exam room one, the largest and best equipped of the clinic. Her hair was the first giveaway: it was just as curly as Karai's, and of course, Sakura had seen it the night before. But even if she hadn't recognized the hair, Izumi's features were a near-perfect match for her brother's. She had the same amber-gold eyes, the same nose, and the same warm glow to her skin. She seemed quite a few years older than the male version, however. Years of sunbathing had obviously taken their toll on her skin—her décolletage, on full display due to the clingy, low cut blouse she wore, was mottled and a bit crepey, resembling that of a woman far older. The fact that she was wearing a bra that pushed her breasts unnaturally close to her collarbone didn't help things, accentuating that time had not been particularly kind to her skin. Sakura could see far more of it than she would have expected for a woman who was an executive in a major business, even if that business had suspect dealings. Simply put, Izumi looked like a tart, like a five-ryo prostitute one might find on a street corner in the red-light districts of the larger cities of Wind country. Her makeup was excessive, her eyes outlined so darkly that she resembled a tanuki, and her lips penciled a good three shades darker than her lipstick, as though she was outlining a target for the visually impaired. And her heels! It was hard to imagine how she could walk the streets in stilettos that towering, considering roads in the village were either cobblestoned or lined with gravel. At least she didn't have to worry about being arrested for solicitation: her position as relative of the daimyou and de facto ruler of the town would see to that.

But it was the jewelry she was wearing that made Sakura smirk in disdain—Izumi might have emptied the entire contents of her jewelry box that morning. She wore three rings on each hand, each set with a stone that was outrageously large. Clearly the woman had never heard of subtlety, or she entirely discounted its value.

Sakura wanted to laugh. The irony was perfect, she realized now that she had gotten an eyeful of Izumi. If nothing else, Kakashi was remarkably consistent. This woman was no different than any of the barmaids, barflies or prostitutes the copy ninja had been with in the past. Izumi was cast from the same mold, though of slightly more expensive materials. She was everything Kakashi had left behind, or rather, everything Sakura had thought he'd left behind. But obviously, he hadn't. Sakura had undeniable evidence of that.

And now she had the great honor of treating Izumi as a patient.

The woman did not disappoint. Sakura expected her to be dismissive and arrogant, and Izumi delivered. She did not wait for Sakura to introduce herself, as one typically does when requesting another's services, but instead started off their interaction with a complaint and a demand.

"I've been waiting a full twenty minutes. And in all that time you didn't even bother to shower, did you?"

Sakura self consciously ran her hands across her scruffy, impromptu ponytail. This comment did not merit a reply, but it did manage to simultaneously annoy and unnerve her.

"It's imperative that there be no scar. If you can't do that, I'll have your head." She flicked her finger as she spoke, showing off overly long, expertly manicured nails that made Sakura want to hide her own chipped ones.

_My head?_

No wonder Katayama-sensei had been concerned.

"What exactly is the problem?" Sakura couldn't see anything wrong with the woman, apart from an appalling lack of good taste married to a corresponding lack of courtesy. Sadly, those were not fixable, at least not with medical techniques.

Izumi glared at Sakura before pulling back her considerable hair with one hand, and tilting her head to the side. She shifted slightly, causing the waxed, white paper underneath her to rustle.

Sakura took a quick look at the injury. She'd been awakened to deal with a torn-up earlobe? The medic did her best to hide the incredulity she felt behind a cloak of cool professionalism.

"I can stitch it closed—it looks like you're missing a chunk, though, so glue is out of the question."

"Glue? You'd actually use glue?" Izumi's immaculately plucked eyebrows lifted, and the start of a sneer appeared upon painted lips that would have been perfectly shaped, if not for the faint, smoke-induced wrinkles that surrounded them.

"It would have been the best option, if you don't want a scar, actually." Izumi was blessedly silent, apparently having no response to this statement of medical expertise. "But, as I said, it's out of the question. I'll need to clean up the lobe first, as it's scabbed over. Did your earring catch on something?"

"Well, obviously. You don't think someone walked up to me and bit it, do you?"

Izumi was taunting her. She had to be. Sakura swallowed the anger rising in her throat and spoke in the restrained, emotionless voice she resorted to when dealing with difficult patients.

"It's my job not to make assumptions."

"Earrings are a bit of a trademark for me. I'm surprised you don't know that."

_Because the world revolves around you, obviously._

"Long, dangly ones, or big hoops—ones that make a statement."

_And what exactly would that statement be? That you can be had for the price of a bottle of beer?_

"How long ago did this happen?"

Izumi waved her hand dismissively. "Some time last night. I'm really not sure when."

"Seriously?" A tear that large had to have hurt. Time and place should be cemented in Izumi's memory.

"I like to party," was her simple reply. "I don't always remember the details."

Sakura had the feeling that Izumi was telling the truth—she didn't appear to be the type of person who troubled herself with inventing falsehoods. That, at least, was a positive aspect to her personality. It didn't mitigate the fact that Sakura was treating the woman who'd engaged Kakashi in an act of infidelity, but it was something, a distraction that she could hang onto and focus upon. Hopefully it would prevent her from acting rashly. Sakura's palms were already itching with the desire to punch the woman.

"Your Yuki's wife, aren't you," Izumi observed as Sakura wet down her earlobe with disinfectant solution, after scrubbing up and grabbing a surgical kit from a nearby cabinet. "You're awfully young for him. How old were you when you married, twelve?"

_Don't say anything. Just…don't._

The medic turned away for a moment, rotating the small stool she sat on so that her back faced her patient, not her anger-flushed face. She would maintain her professionalism. This woman wasn't worth a compromise to either her values or her ethics. Sakura had been waiting for the bitch to fully reveal her claws. Ignoring her was the best choice: showing any response would cause the woman to pounce with feline abandon. Better to stay still, and hope Izumi's attention wandered. It wouldn't do to jeopardize the mission, although it would feel so good to teach this alley cat in heat a lesson.

The strategy didn't work.

"I assume he told you."

Sakura dropped the iodine-soaked cotton ball she was using to prep Izumi's lobe, and grimaced as it bounced down the front of the woman's clean, white blouse, leaving a trail of indelible, red-brown stain. She should have had Izumi change into a gown, but honestly, this was such a minor procedure that Sakura hadn't felt it necessary. Two or three stitches barely qualified as surgery. Sakura looked at the object of Kakashi's peccadillo with disdain. She hadn't thought that even this woman would be hateful enough to bring up the act Sakura witnessed. In fact, she'd hoped that maybe Izumi had forgotten it, considering that she seemed to have lost her memory of at least part of the night before.

"Last night I told him three weeks, but it will probably be closer to five. You'll miss him, won't you?"

"I miss Yuki terribly when he's gone."

So Izumi hadn't been talking about the blow job she'd given Kakashi. Maybe she _had_ forgotten. Regardless, it didn't make Sakura feel any better. The medic picked up the needle and suture with her forceps and turned to her patient with a smile she hoped seemed apologetic. "Unfortunately, I'm out of anesthetic." That wasn't exactly true—there was certainly enough topical medication left in her limited supply to numb an earlobe, or even a leg or two, but Sakura decided that Izumi didn't need to know this. She certainly didn't deserve it, and likely she was still somewhat pickled from the previous night's drinking. Even if she weren't, Sakura realized she didn't care. "Would you like something to bite on while I stitch? It shouldn't be more than a couple of sutures."

"I'm tougher than I look. I don't give a rat's ass about the pain, as long as there is no scar."

Again, Izumi did not lie. She clenched her jaw as Sakura carefully stitched together the torn portions of the earlobe, but did not cry out or make any other sound. Sakura could almost promise a scar, however—the lobe would be puckered, and slightly smaller than the other, due to the wedge of flesh that was missing. The amusing thing was that for any other patient, this wouldn't be so. Sakura would be sure to surreptitiously apply chakra to regenerate the missing flesh—such a small amount of bodily tissue was well within her capabilities. The patient, being a civilian, surely wouldn't notice the feeling of inflowing energy, and would attribute the perfect, scar-less results to the salve of herbs the medic would suggest applying twice daily.

How sad for Izumi that she wouldn't be the beneficiary of Sakura's medical ninjutsu. This decision was fully justified, too; it would jeopardize the mission to use chakra on their target. She might be one of those rare civilians that could detect chakra. The kunoichi knew without asking that Kakashi would agree with her.

"All done. Sorry about your blouse. Bleach should take it out."

"My blouse?" Izumi glanced down and noticed the copper brown streak running diagonally down her front. "Idiot! Do you have any idea how much this cost? No, of course you don't." She pulled a compact from an oversized leather purse bedecked with the initials of some famous designer Sakura likely had never heard of and surveyed her face. "This looks horrible—it looks like there are flies perched on my ear. Cover it up with something. Now."

Sakura was tempted to wind gauze around Izumi's head, in the manner of a brain surgery patient, as this would suit Izumi's hypochondria, but settled instead for a small flesh colored bandage, of the kind used on paper cuts.

"Change it daily, and don't let the stitches get wet for a couple of days." She gazed coldly at her patient. "And no earrings. You'll need to get it repierced, of course, and higher on the lobe, but not for at least four months." That was overkill, but again, Izumi didn't need to know that. Besides, if all went according to plan, Izumi wouldn't be alive in four months.

The woman jumped down from the leather-topped examination table, wobbling a bit in her ridiculously high heels, and affording Sakura a better view of the ensemble she wore. Izumi resembled nothing so much as a woman clinging desperately to her youth, who has decided to take on the habits and clothing of women much younger than her. She was pathetic, really, more so because she apparently was completely unaware of the image she evoked

Sakura hugged herself tightly as the most detestable woman she'd encountered in recent memory left her exam room. She should have felt some satisfaction from denying Izumi painkillers and the best in patient care-- revenge was supposed to be sweet. It certainly had felt that way every time Sakura punched Naruto across the greater half of Konoha in retaliation for the callous, stupid utterances that flowed from his mouth. And if anyone deserved her comeuppance, it was Izumi. But Sakura's actions did nothing to assuage the pervasive feeling of disappointment she felt. Maybe this was because her actions toward Izumi were furtive. Every other time she'd gotten back at someone, Sakura had always been quite open about it. Or maybe this was because she was attacking the wrong person.

The medic kicked the closet cabinet in frustration, lodging a small dent in its metal door. It was Kakashi who was at fault here, not Izumi. If he and Sakura had been married, he would be labeled as the adulterer, not Izumi. That woman, bitch that she was, would merely be classified as the "other woman". She was an enabler, certainly, maybe even the instigator, but she was not the one who had broken a promise. It was Kakashi, not Izumi who had committed the infidelity. Sakura should be talking to _him_, venting at him, letting him know exactly how she felt about this betrayal. If ever he'd deserved her wrath, it was now. But late the previous night, after soaking through her pillow, she'd decided against this. Sakura was still sure that this was the correct decision. She would be a professional, and put the mission first. It was pointless to do otherwise. Even if she were to extract an apology from Kakashi, it would be meaningless. He'd still be going off to Mizu with that awful woman, for five weeks or more. If he had cheated on his partner here in the village, only hours after his pledge to stay true, certainly it would happen again. So what was the value of discussing it?

Sakura walked into the waiting room, and called in her first real patient of the day. Though it was still quite early, the room was full. She was in for a very long day. For once this was good news: at least she wouldn't have to worry about spending time with Kakashi today.

* * *

"Feeling any better?" Kakashi ran a cool hand across his son's forehead, and grinned in response to Tsuki's hopeful smile.

"My stomach still hurts. Is Mommy still gone?"

"Working. I can send down a message if you like. Thirsty?"

"No. I think I might throw up again."

Kakashi glanced at the trail of newspapers that led from Tsuki's bed to the door and down the hallway to the bathroom. He'd replaced them several times that morning, until Tsuki had settled down to sleep again. "If you think you can't make it, use this." The copy ninja held up the wastepaper basket he'd set by the bed. "It's what my mom and dad always used to do for me."

"That's kind of disgusting, Dad."

"Yeah. I guess it is. But so are newspapers."

"Um…"

"Yes?"

"Am I dying?"

Kakashi chuckled. "No. Of course not. You're already getting better—can't you tell?"

Tsuki shrugged, his laconic action reminding Kakashi of his childhood self.

"Why would you think something like that?"

Tsuki was quiet for a moment, apparently finding the dust motes hovering over his bed a more interesting subject than their current conversation. Finally, he spoke, his face betraying both confusion and reluctance.

"Mommy was crying last night. For a very long time. She tried to be quiet, but I could tell because she was shaking. And every now and then, she gasped."

"Ah." Her tears weren't due to tiredness, then, or from one of the romantic novels she favored on the rare occasions that she had time to read for pleasure. Not if she'd been sobbing.

"Why would she be so sad? I don't think I did anything bad. Did you?"

"No. No, Tsuki. I guess we need to talk to her."

"Yeah." His son smiled, its sudden flash lighting the small room like a midday sun peeking through dissipating rain clouds. "I'm glad I'm not dying. Would you read to me?"

Kakashi nodded, glad that his son had long since graduated from ridiculous picture books starring cuddly, anthropomorphic teddy bears and other saccharine creations.

"And what would you like me to read?"

"Well, I was wondering if you could read the _Book of Five Rings_ to me. I… I really don't understand it. I've already read it five times, too!"

"Sure. Be right back." Kakashi quickly returned, delivering to Tsuki a glass of tepid water and plate of crackers before he pulled a worn, oversized easy chair into the room. He settled into the chair after locating the book in question then patted his lap in welcome. "Would you like to sit with me?"

Tsuki eagerly climbed aboard, a frayed-edged blanket trailing behind him, and snuggled against the older ninja. "Can you start with chapter one? I don't think the preface is that important."

Kakashi chucked. "They almost never are. But the introduction is. It talks about the way the world was when this book was written."

"Your grandfather wrote it?"

"That's right-- before Konoha was founded. The daimyou held all of the power, and individual ninja clans did their bidding. When the Senju and the Uchiha clans banded together, the balance of power shifted. My grandfather was a mercenary, and he was quite skilled in the way of the sword. But as Konoha grew in power, it sought families to join the village, even those without bloodline traits. That's how my mother's family came to the village."

"You're lucky! Mom told me a little about the Harunos, but they have always been merchants. She's the first shinobi in the family! And my father's family…" Tsuki's brow furrowed. "Mom never told me much about them, although Grandma and Grandpa are great, of course. "They weren't ninja, either. I wish I was from a strong shinobi family, like yours. Sometimes…"

"Hmm?" Tsuki certainly was chatty for such a sick child. The copy ninja rearranged the small boy in his lap, moving him into the crook of his arm.

"Sometimes I wish you were my dad." His voice was so soft it was barely audible. Still, Kakashi heard, and had no idea of how to reply. It wouldn't be fair to Sakura to tell the truth, and it wouldn't be fair to Tsuki to lie—not if he were to learn the truth eventually, as his mother had promised. Kakashi decided it was best to ignore his son's comment, although it pained him to do so.

In a soft voice, Kakashi began reading aloud, pausing whenever he noticed a look of confusion on his son's face.

"I don't get it. What does being a leader have to do with being a carpenter? I don't see what this has to do with being shinobi." Tsuki's brows knit together, conveying his frustration.

"You'll have your own squad someday, probably sooner than you think. But even if you're not in charge, you can lead from whatever position you're in."

"What does that mean?"

Kakashi smiled. "What do you think it means?"

"Being in charge and giving the orders. But only one person is in charge, so how can you lead if you're not that person?"

"I used to think that, too—that only the leader leads. I thought being the leader was the same as being the boss, and telling people what to do. I expected to be respected just because of the title. But being a leader isn't about giving the orders."

"It's not?"

"Read this part to me." He pointed to a passage in the slim volume.

"'The foreman carpenter allots his men work according to their ability. Those of poor ability lay the floor joists, and those of lesser ability carve wedges.'"

Tsuki thought for a while, his face screwed up into a look of deep concentration not unlike the one Kakashi had seen on Naruto's face on several occasions. The expression didn't last as long as on the jinchuuriki, however.

"I get it. If you're the leader, you deploy your men based on their strengths and weaknesses."

"And what if you're not the one in charge?"

Tsuki appeared to be stumped.

"You can lead by knowing your own strengths and weaknesses. So what are yours?"

"Mine?" The boy's eyes widened. "I'm fast, and I have a lot of energy."

"And you're quick-witted. And like your mother, you have perfect chakra control. And your weaknesses?"

"I never really thought about that. I guess…inexperience?"

"That, and you're short. Physically, that's a handicap. But I notice you've devised strategies to deal with it."

"And I'm colorblind."

"That can lead to problems finding your quarry—their camouflage will improve. So how do you deal with that one?"

"I look for tiny movements of the leaves surrounding them. What are your weaknesses?"

"I have plenty. My Sharingan eye drains my chakra whenever it's open, and it disorients me to use it and my other eye at the same time. As a result, I have poor depth perception."

"We both have eye issues! You and I are like twins, you know. How do you deal with your problem?"

"I use chakra signatures. Chakra intensity decreases exponentially with distance, so it's easy to gauge how far away another person is. The trick is separating out the background noise from other animals."

"Oh. I bet I could use that too."

"When we get back to Konoha, I'll teach you."

"Are we going home soon?"

"Yes, finally. I have one more trip, and then we'll head back."

Tsuki's next words were tinged with glumness. "But that means…"

"What?"

"We won't be living together, right? Unless…" A serious expression stole across his face. "Are you and Mom in love?"

Kakashi hadn't talked to Sakura about this. He had no idea how she wanted to handle explaining their relationship to their son. "Um…" was all he could muster in reply.

"You are, aren't you?" From the tone of Tsuki's voice it was clear that this was less a question than an observation. "So maybe we'll all live together."

"Maybe. That's up to your Mom."

Tsuki's mood brightened appreciably. In his mind apparently the matter was settled. In a rare, age appropriate manner, he abruptly changed the subject.

"Why is the first ring 'Earth'? Is it the most important one? Why is this book about rings at all?"

"Miyamoto used the five elements as a metaphor. The characteristics of each describe the aspects of kendo and other warrior arts. Do you know how the five elements differ?"

"Well, each is weak and strong, depending on the element it goes up against. Water, Fire, Wind, Lightning, Earth. They balance each other in a cyclical pattern."

"An accurate explanation."

"I wonder what element I am."

"Earth, I'd guess. Like your mom."

"I wish I was lightning, like you."

"We'll do the test when we get back to Konoha. You may be two different types. And it's about time we started training you to put your affinities to use, whatever they are."

"Would you show me?"

"Show you what?"

"A lightning jutsu. Something big!"

"Ah. Raikiri, you mean."

"Yeah, raikiri!"

"It's probably not a good idea to do it indoors. It might start a fire."

"Please? I can't go outside, can I?" Tsuki's puppy-like expression was enough to win Kakashi over. The boy might have been tutored by the pack, given his skill with that particular manipulation. The copy ninja moved the small boy off his lap and pointed to the other side of the room.

"You'll need to stand back."

His son watched with rapt attention as Kakashi pushed away mismatched furniture and made the seals necessary to begin the accumulation of chakra in his hands. The dingy-walled room glowed blue as electricity sparked around him, and the glowing ball of plasma took shape.

"Ox, hare, monkey, wrist."

Damn, that kid was observant.

"_Don't_ try this yourself." Kakashi lifted an eyebrow in warning as the sound of a thousand chirping birds began emanating from the pulsing sphere he held in one hand.

"Right, Dad," his son yelled back. "Of course not!" The look of awe and reverence on his son's face produced a feeling of pride in Kakashi that washed slowly over him like the first moments of a warm summer rain. How had he ever believed he didn't want children?

The door slammed, and Kakashi immediately ended the jutsu, dousing the ball of electricity in a single, smooth motion.

"You seem to be doing better."

Kakashi grinned with relief. Apparently Sakura hadn't heard the flock of birds that had taken up temporary residence in the apartment.

"Mom! I missed you!' Tsuki ran to his mother, encircling her knees in a heartfelt and very strong hug.

"It smells funny in here."

"Shouldn't it? It's a sick room."

"Like ozone. The way it smells after a good storm."

Kakashi shrugged disingenuously. He had no doubt Sakura would not be pleased to learn that he was demonstrating a class A jutsu to their son, let alone indoors.

"You look tired. Why don't you lie down for a bit? I can take care of dinner." The dark circles under Sakura's eyes were alarming. Katayama-sensei must be running her ragged.

The medic gave him a half-hearted smile. "I can't. You're leaving tomorrow—I heard. I'll need to finish up the poison before you go. It will only take a few more hours. I'll just grab something quick to eat and head back downstairs."

"Right." He'd forgotten temporarily about the mass murder he was intending to commit. Or perhaps his subconscious had intentionally blocked it from his mind. Even though it was for the greater good—the good of Konoha and all of the nations, great and minor, Kakashi did not relish the thought of taking so many lives. Even the lives of the guilty had value.

"You'll show me how to use it before I go?"

"I can tell you right now." Sakura flopped into the overstuffed easy chair and rubbed her feet. "It's colorless and tasteless—you can mix it into the water carafes or sake containers wherever the group is gathered. I'll portion it out for you—use one or two pills per liter. Even a tiny amount is fatal. The good news is they'll think they have clostridium food poisoning and blame it on the caterer."

"Is that what I have?" Tsuki's curiosity was piqued.

"No, honey. You have something mild— salmonella, probably. Clostridium is much worse."

"So they'll vomit to death?" Kakashi imagined a hotel conference room full of executives bent over in agony splattering a floral-patterned carpet with their distress.

"They'll vomit, initially. But convulsions and respiratory paralysis will kill them."

"Sounds dangerous. And painful."

"It is. Funny to think that such a beautiful plant—"

"Which plant?"

"Rosary pea. Its seeds are deadly and very attractive—red and black, like ladybugs. I modified the toxin, though. It won't be active until it mixes with stomach acid. So if you were to get some on your skin, as long as you wash thoroughly you'll be okay. Obviously don't touch your mouth until then. Better still, wear gloves. I'll pack some for you."

"Yes, ma'am."

Sakura's brow lowered at his slight mockery. "Would you rather I didn't tell you?" She didn't give him a chance to respond. "You'll have a couple of hours before they start having symptoms, and they won't die for a few days—enough time to make your getaway. Well, I'd better get to it. Tsuki, will you be okay while I'm gone?"

"Sure. I'm having fun with Dad. Um, Mom, do you think when we get back to Konoha he can move in with us?"

Kakashi looked on as Sakura blanched. He would have shown his amusement, if not for the strong possibility that she'd think he'd put Tsuki up to it.

Sakura blinked twice before speaking. "We'll talk about this once Sensei gets back, okay?"

"Okay! He can have my room, in case that makes a difference."

"I said 'later,' Tsuki." His son's pseudo-innocent smile in response to this warning reminded Kakashi of the one he'd cultivated himself many years before. 'Like father, like son' was more true of an adage than he'd realized.

* * *

It took longer than Sakura expected to complete the purification and packaging of the toxin, due to safety precautions. She was always careful when working with chemicals, but no shortcuts were admissible now that she was pregnant. Still, she was satisfied with the results. Enough poison to kill a thousand people fit into a tiny metal box, even though she'd added binders and fillers to get the pills to a size easy enough to handle. Katayama-sensei had been helpful as usual, freely offering her storeroom when Sakura had explained her desire to compound a new headache remedy. The medic removed all traces of her work now, using a strong solution of bleach to render any traces of the compound harmless. It wouldn't do for the elder healer to administer the drug inadvertently, or accidentally ingest some.

Sakura trudged upstairs to a quiet apartment. She'd heard Tsuki bouncing around hours ago, but he was likely sleeping now, given the late hour. A dim light shone through the doorway to her bedroom, however, eliciting a sigh from her. She just wanted to sleep, but the fact that Kakashi had waited up for her suggested he had other things in mind.

"You should be sleeping. Big day tomorrow," she announced preemptively as she entered the room, moving directly to the bureau and avoiding eye contact with the copy ninja. Thankfully, he was reading a book. She rummaged through her clothing until she located a camisole and a pair of the close fitting shorts she often wore under her skirts.

"I'll just be a moment," she said as she excused herself.

"Why so shy?" Kakashi asked, curiosity evident in his voice.

"I need to shower. I'm sweaty and dirty, that's all. I didn't even get to bathe this morning."

"Don't be long." He patted the space next to him, causing Sakura to notice his bare chest. He was probably naked under the blankets.

She extended her shower until the water ran cold, slowly toweling off, rubbing her hair dry and dressing before returning to the room.

"Join me?"

She gingerly sat on the foot of the bed, balancing one hand against its garish vinyl footboard as she massaged her ankles with the other. "I'm tired, Kakashi. Exhausted, really."

"You're pushing yourself too hard. You worry me."

"The mission comes first, right?" She was too tired to smooth away the rough edge of sarcasm in her voice.

"I disagree. The team comes first. If the team's not healthy, the mission won't succeed."

"Right. Well, I'm healthy, just in need of a good night's sleep. So if you're in the mood, could it wait?"

"Who said you had to do any of the work? Just lie back and relax."

"I don't… wait a minute. Look at your tattoo."

Kakashi twisted his neck to get a better view of his biceps. "It's a bit faded, isn't it?"

Sakura was on him in a moment, grabbing his arm to inspect the tattoo. "Be right back." She grabbed a marker from the dresser and set to work on his arm, going over the lines of the elaborate cornflower she'd drawn to hide his distinctive ANBU mark.

"How long has it been since the last time I've done this?"

"A month, I guess."

Sakura frowned as she began applying chakra. "I'd better show you how to do this as you're going to be gone for at least five weeks."

"_Five_? Where did you hear that?"

"From Izumi," she replied as she pressed cool green energy into Kakashi's arm, modulating its intensity until the pigment began to move through the upper tissue layer of his skin.

"Izumi?"

"She stopped by the clinic today. Her ear was ripped up. She couldn't remember how she'd done it." She looked at Kakashi hopefully. Now was a perfect opportunity for him to come clean.

"Well, that's not surprising, given the tacky earrings she wears. She probably fell down drunk." Sakura couldn't miss the look of disgust he wore.

"You think she's tacky?"

"How could I not? She's…revolting, actually."

"I see."

_But that doesn't stop you from accepting sexual favors from her, does it?_

"Can you feel the chakra moving?"

"Sure."

"Can you tell how deep it's entered? It's critical that you not push in the pigment into the dermis layer or the tattoo will be permanent. I assume you don't want that."

"I can't really tell."

"It's hard to gauge depth on your own body. Here." Sakura passed the pen to him once she was satisfied that the tattoo was acceptably situated. "Draw a mark on me, and try for yourself. I'll guide you through the process."

"Where?"

"Somewhere that will be hard to see. And don't draw anything perverted." She nearly growled these last words at him.

He set to work on her back, humming as he drew what felt like several squiggles.

"It doesn't need to be a work of art."

"I'm done."

"You know how to generate healing chakra, right? Make a tiny amount, and keep track of the resistance you feel when it enters my flesh. The epidermis is made of different types of cells. Each new layer of cells will feel different. You want to go down three layers, into the _stratum basale_." She held her body still as she felt a pulse of concentrated energy enter her flesh. "That's the second layer—did you feel the discontinuity there?"

Kakashi grunted in agreement. His lack of articulate response wasn't surprising: it took a great deal of focus to move ones chakra so precisely.

"And there's the third. When you're ready, you can try moving a larger amount of pigment."

She relaxed as he worked on her back, slowly pushing the ink into the epidermal layer of her skin.

"Good work," she said once he was finished, deftly pulling herself away from fingers that had strayed from her shoulder blade to her breasts. "I'm going to check on Tsuki."

"He's fine, Sakura."

"I know. It's just that…"

"I understand."

"Don't wait up for me, okay?"

Sakura didn't miss the hurt expression that momentarily flickered across his face, but she decided it didn't matter—not if she wanted to get over him. She left the room quickly, eager to avoid the confrontation that threatened. Talking to him wouldn't do any good. He'd been given the opportunity to tell her the truth, and he'd deftly avoided it. Apparently he assumed that what she didn't know couldn't hurt her. But he was wrong on both counts: she did know, and she hurt terribly.

* * *

Of course he was going to wait up for her. Sakura must be deluded to think he would leave for five weeks without a proper goodbye. He'd been thinking about her all day, imagining the feel of her skin against his, the taste of her, and the warm, soothing sensation of being surrounded by her flesh. But that wasn't all. He wanted to bring her pleasure, and not just of the physical kind. He'd wanted to fix her dinner, as elegant a feast as he could muster, given the meager offerings of the kitchen cupboards. And he'd wanted to entertain her, to remove the sad half smile she'd worn since the night before. Whatever was wrong, he wanted to fix it.

He gave her an hour then went to collect her.

Kakashi found her fast asleep, curled into the easy chair he had dragged into Tsuki's room, a thin blanket covering her. Her face was wet again, although peaceful now that sleep had released her from whatever was tormenting her. He gently picked her up as carefully as he could. He didn't need to wake her: it would be enough to hold her.

He settled her in their bed, pulling her body towards his so that she nestled against him like one spoon against another. She was out cold: she hadn't stirred as he carried her, or now when she said her name softly. He smoothed the tousled candy floss of her hair, relishing its silken texture, and couldn't resist running his lips along the nape of her neck. She reacted, despite her deep sleep, but on a purely unconscious level. Kakashi fingered the thin strap of her camisole, and the lace trim adorning its edges. It was funny that she wasn't wearing his clothes. He hadn't seen her sleep in anything remotely feminine since they'd started the mission. Something was definitely wrong.

"Did I hurt you, Sakura? Why won't you tell me? What did I do?"

Of course she didn't reply. She was sleeping too soundly, her deep slumber ample evidence of her exhaustion.

The copy ninja smiled wryly as he thought of the tattoo he'd imprinted on her hours before. Surely she'd laugh when she saw the Kakashi-style smiley face he'd drawn for her, complete with crescent-moon eyes, one slashed through completely. He'd positioned the sketch far enough down her back that she'd need a mirror to see it. Given her tiredness, it seemed likely she'd forget the lesson in inking she'd delivered this evening. Hopefully she'd be surprised when she remembered he'd drawn it, or when Tsuki pointed it out to her. Hopefully she'd think of him fondly, longingly, as he was certain to be thinking of her.

She loved him—he was certain of this, as certain as he was of his own love for her. So why did he have the unshakeable, sinking feeling that he was losing her?

Maybe this was a byproduct of first love—insecurity producing the feeling that things couldn't last. He didn't think so, however. His insecurity was based in reality, not in his own misgivings. It was clear that Sakura was unhappy.

Kakashi pressed his hand against the lower portion of Sakura's shoulder blade, allowing minute traces of chakra to enter her skin. He was careful, painstakingly noting each granule of pigment he'd deposited earlier. He picked up each cluster, and moved them carefully to the skin layer just below.

If nothing else, now she had a permanent reminder of his feelings for her.

Kakashi rolled onto his back and attempted to sleep, but the sweet caress of unconsciousness did not appear to be forthcoming. The reason why was obvious-- he needed to talk to Sakura. Yet he had the feeling she'd be out of bed and off to work long before he awakened, probably before the sun rose. He'd barely seen her in the past two days. He turned now to face her in the room illuminated dimly by the starlit night. At least it had stopped raining. The black night sky of previous rainy nights was gone.

She was sleeping peacefully, and most likely dreamlessly, although there was a slightly lost look upon her face. Kakashi wondered what had affected her so. He was used to the angry Sakura, the spiteful Sakura, and most recently, the happy, exuberant Sakura. He'd never seen the deflated, emptied version. That was how she seemed now—as if something she'd cherished had turned to ash.

He wanted to kiss her, to pull her into his arms and make things better, to take whatever was causing her anguish and crush it, kill it, disembowel it if necessary. But it wouldn't be fair to wake someone so obviously in need of rest. He settled for stroking her hair, allowing its silken ribbons to slide through his fingers like cloth of finest satin..

She was so beautiful when she slept. Hell, she was always beautiful, whether she was standing before him naked, crushing a rock ten times her size, or holding their beautiful child.

Kakashi ran his finger over her parted lips, relishing their softness. He'd give anything right now for a kiss, even if she didn't return it.

"Kakashi?" Eyes darkened to malachite by the dimness of the room flickered open to connect with his artificially blue ones. "What's wrong?" Sakura sat up, her brow creased with worry. Her thoughts were obviously with Tsuki.

"Nothing. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Mmm." She reclined again, pulling the top sheet to cover her as she curled against the pillow she grasped to her chest like a surrogate lover.

"Sakura."

"What?" Her eyes opened again, this time to gaze more deeply into his. "It's late, isn't it? You have a long day tomorrow. You should sleep." She yawned, and began to roll away from him, but he stopped her movement with a firmly placed hand.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"What's wrong? _Nothing's_ wrong."

"You've been crying."

"No, I haven't."

"In your sleep. Twice now."

"I can't control my dreams. Can you?"

This was no time to talk about lucid dreaming, Kakashi decided, sidestepping her question.

"What were you dreaming about?" he asked instead.

"Just now? I wasn't dreaming at all."

Kakashi sighed. Talking to Sakura appeared to be a futile exercise. She didn't want to tell him what was bothering her. He could feel the thick, broken glass-topped wall she'd erected around herself.

"It's not just when you're asleep. You're unhappy when you're awake, too." He paused. "So tell me. It's something I did, isn't it? _What did I do_?"

"You didn't do anything." Sakura carefully removed Kakashi's hand from her shoulder and turned away from him, pulling the thermal blanket and top sheet with her. "Is this so important that we have to talk about it right now?"

"Yes," he said emphatically.

The kunoichi huffed with frustration, and Kakashi could almost hear her eyes rolling back in her head.

"If you must know, sometimes this happens the week before my period. I get… blue, I guess. Sad for no reason. It's premenstrual syndrome. Satisfied? Would you like to hear about any other of my bodily functions?"

"Hmm."

"Good night."

Both were quiet for the next five minutes. Kakashi spent this time listening carefully to Sakura's breathing. She was regulating it so that it would appear as though she'd already fallen asleep, but she wasn't terribly convincing. Each inhalation was slightly too deep, and the timing was off. He'd been listening to Sakura for the past few hours as he'd tossed and turned: he knew what a sleeping Sakura sounded like. Her breathing should be punctuated with light, inoffensive snores, actually, although she'd probably mortified to learn of this.

"I don't believe you, you know," he said softly, his words an exploratory shot in the dark. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry."

"If you did do something, you'd know what it was, wouldn't you?"

Her voice was cool and unemotional, he noticed.

"Yes…" he said slowly. Something about her logic was warped, although the statement appeared fine on its surface.

"Then don't worry about it. Obviously everything's okay."

"Prove it."

She rolled over again and looked at him curiously.

"How?"

"Kiss me."

"Will you go back to sleep if I do?"

"Yes."

She leaned in to him, giving him a chaste kiss of the type she might give Tsuki before sending the boy off to bed.

"Good night," she said as she finished.

"Not so fast. My turn." He pulled Sakura towards him, locking his arms around her as he sought her lips with his own. God, he wanted her, even if she _was_ exhausted. This was likely their last opportunity to make love before he left. He'd be damned if he didn't make the best of it.

She struggled for a few seconds before submitting to the urgency of his kiss, muttering something that was hard to hear, though he was hardly listening. He was relentless, fully communicating to her both his needs and his desire. She joined in finally, her lips parting as he nibbled them in supplication, her hands intertwining in his unruly hair.

"We should sleep," she said, but her voice was half-hearted and her actions belied these words. She moaned softly as he slipped his hand under her camisole and teased her breasts until her nipples stood erect and hypersensitive. And she didn't object when he slowly removed the clingy shorts from her slender frame. She joined in, in fact, tugging at his shorts until he was naked, then removing the last of her own clothes.

He was inside her in a moment, all pretense of foreplay abandoned as she raised her hips towards his and ground against him. He'd learned the nuances and subtle intricacies of her body perfectly in the preceding weeks and now he put this knowledge to use, effortlessly running through a repertoire of thrusts and caresses that drove her to abandon.

She cried his name as she roughly grabbed his ass to urge him more deeply inside her, and then she came, violently and repeatedly in a rushing thunderstorm of release. That was an image to memorize, Kakashi thought idly, wishing he'd thought to remove his ever present contact lenses so that his Sharingan could do one of its more utilitarian jobs. He'd never seen her react with such abandon, or with such unrestrained emotion.

He nimbly rolled them over so that she was superior, and smiled smugly as she continued to move against him. One peak had been reached, but she was not satisfied, it seemed. She ground and slammed against him as he took in the scene before him objectively, almost as though he were a voyeur watching the most intimate moments of a random couple. Her firm breasts jiggled as she bounced against him, and her hair moved in rhythmic waves, like tall grass bending under a gale force wind. But he couldn't help but respond when she grew tighter and wetter, her body signaling its intention to climax again. This time he didn't hold back, and instead allowed himself to experience fully the feelings that her body produced in him. He matched his release to hers, but lost as he was in overwhelming sensation,, did not notice when her cries of passion turned to sobs of sorrow. It wasn't until he came back to himself that he saw the tears wetting her face like raindrops on a window pane, slowly converging into a trail that stained her cheeks with the evidence of her sadness.

"Sakura—"

"Just hold me. Please."

And so he did, rubbing her back as she trembled against him with ragged breath.

"Marry me." Perhaps she didn't hear him, as she didn't respond, so he asked her again.

"You don't have to answer now. I'll do this properly when I come back—I promise. A ring, flowers, a romantic dinner, everything. Anything you want. I'll sweep you off your feet. Just promise me you'll be waiting for me."

He wasn't sure why he added that. Perhaps it was his insecurity kicking in again. But what he knew for sure was that he had to have her. He needed to spend the rest of his life with her, and he would let nothing—absolutely nothing— stand in his way.


	28. Chapter 28 Lightning Water

**A Book of Five Rings**

_Author's note: Two chapters left. Thanks for sticking with me!_

**Chapter 28: Lightning Water**

Twenty one days without a single sex dream: this was a new record for the copy ninja. He might have blamed it on exhaustion. He'd slept in twelve different beds in the last three weeks, after long days spent traveling by horse drawn carriage between the lesser nations of the continent. This mode of transport was always a jolting, bone-wearying experience. But Kakashi hadn't slept dreamlessly these nights. His sleep was rife with vivid imagery, just not of the sexual kind.

Instead his dreams were filled with anxiety. They were also filled with Sakura. In them his lover turned away, gazed at him with a strange mixture of sadness and disdain, or simply ignored him. Worse still, in some dreams Kakashi returned to Grass to find her and Tsuki gone, the apartment they shared devoid of any sign that they'd ever lived there as a family.

Kakashi left the village without determining what was bothering Sakura, without discovering what had saddened her enough to cause her to break down during what should have been an intimate, joyous moment. She simply wouldn't open up to him despite his efforts, and as he predicted, she left early the next morning to go to work. She did leave a note wishing him luck on the mission along with a reminder that she'd tucked the toxin he'd need into his backpack. But this wasn't what he wanted from her, and he was certain she knew it. Kakashi spent the morning with Tsuki instead, although he went downstairs several times to attempt to call Sakura out to the clinic's waiting area. She was too busy to see him. This was likely true, given the number of patients sitting idly in the waiting room. Still, it was obvious that she was running away from him. Hence the dreams, he guessed, and his continued unease.

Not that Kakashi showed this on the outside. He appeared to be as stoic and laconic as ever, his eyes half shut as usual, unabashedly displaying the lazy, laid-back persona he'd perfected over many years. A book would complete the image, but soft-porn novels weren't acceptable reading fare while on a mission. He did read _Icha, Icha _when alone in his room, but sadly, it wasn't as effective as in times past. An image of Sakura inserted itself into every illustration his mind conjured from Jiraiya's expert prose. This had been happening for some time, however it no longer titillated. It filled him with longing, but of a different kind: this was a melancholy feeling, the type one experiences when it has become clear that the object most desired has been lost.

He did his best to shrug the feeling off. There was no point in contemplating something he couldn't fix immediately. Kakashi told himself he'd take care of things once the mission was over. He'd do anything necessary to get Sakura to open up, and then he'd mend whatever was broken. Yet it would have to wait until they were together again.

As their extended sales excursion was complete, Izumi and Kakashi soon would be leaving for Mizu and the meeting of the company's key executives and clients. A ship owned by Izumi's family waited in Lightning country's deep-water harbor, not far from the warehouse also owned by the organization. Kakashi, once again dogsbody for a dictatorial Izumi, had spent the better part of their first day in Lightning in this run-down building, inspecting a shipment of goods that had arrived earlier that week. He was looking forward to the mission's end for many reasons, one of them being ridding himself of this particular brand of subservience. As he inventoried box after box of weapons the copy ninja wondered how secretaries could stomach being eyed so intently, day after day, while being asked to perform the most menial of tasks. He could most definitely empathize.

Perhaps this was karmic retribution for his many sexist acts and utterances over the course of his adolescence and adulthood. He finally understood the looks of near hatred he had endured from female colleagues in the past. While he'd never played the role of boss-as-predator, he'd been bad enough. He distinctly remembered telling a teenaged Sakura to be careful with the ration pills, lest they make her fat. And when he'd seduced her on the night of her eighteenth birthday, wasn't _that _predatory, given their former relationship? He was past all of this now, no longer the type of person who would view another as only a sexual object, but karma was a bitch, as people said. Yet if fate hadn't forgiven him for his selfish behavior almost six years earlier, at least Sakura had. He'd changed completely as a result of her willingness to forget past grievances.

Three weeks was a long time to be without the person you loved, and for Kakashi, this away mission had dragged on endlessly. He was relieved that there was a buffer between Izumi and him for at least part of the trip. Despite Kakashi's antipathy toward Izumi's brother, he was glad of the womanizer's presence. Sadly, Karai had left two weeks into the journey. As they visited the lesser nations of the country, it became clear that Izumi was not her usual self in her brother's presence. Karai teased his sister mercilessly. With a straight face he asked an almost endless series of questions about her damaged ear and her sudden predilection for wide headbands. For once, sibling rivalry was a beautiful thing to behold. Izumi had no time to abuse her beleaguered subordinate or to make intemperate demands of him. Mercifully, she stayed away from Kakashi when Karai was near. The worst she'd done in two weeks was play footsie under the table. The copy ninja had no explanation for this reined-in behavior, although he was certainly thankful for it. Once Karai was gone, the copy ninja was back to finding any reason to avoid visiting Izumi's room.

The best tactic, Kakashi found, was to avoid excuses entirely. Instead, he disappeared each evening. If Izumi couldn't find him, she couldn't order him, threaten to fire him, or use any other stratagem to make him visit her room. Much of each evening Kakashi spent walking the streets of the towns they visited, careful to avoid authorities who might question the activities of a scar-faced outsider. It was easier once they got to Lightning. This town was larger than any of the others they'd visited, which was not surprising, as it was the main port town of one of the great shinobi nations.

Kakashi found an all night _ki__s__saten_ tucked away in a quiet side street some distance from the fashionable part of town where he and Izumi were lodging. In this place he could work quietly without fear of a sudden summoning from the self-styled empress. The copy ninja had plenty to prepare before they left for Mizu. He planned to take down the warehouse they'd visited their first day in town. It would be critical to remove not only key members of the organization, but the bulk of their product. To do that he needed a ready supply of explosive tags. He planned to rig out the warehouse before taking the ship to Mizu, and detonate them after returning from his mass assassination. A simple genjutsu allowed Kakashi to hide his efforts from the other patrons of the quiet coffeehouse-cum-bookstore, and after several nights of sloppy calligraphy sessions, he had prepared a large stack of paper rectangles, each inscribed with an explosion sutra and embedded with the appropriate jutsu. This wasn't a difficult task, merely tedious. Any paper would do: it was the words embedded in the paper, as well as the explosion jutsu bound by these words that compressed sufficient chakra into a small, unstable package. A simple release jutsu would break the seal that tenuously held this chakra in place. The rapid outflow of chakra would produce the explosive effect desired.

Kakashi stood outside the warehouse now, hidden in the shadows cast by towering stacks of wooden crates and pallets. Even without his Sharingan exposed, he had plenty of opportunity during his earlier visit to memorize the layout of the place. A small series of tags would be enough to bring down the antiquated structure.

The copy ninja walked the perimeter of the building, and at careful intervals he slid the tags into the dingy red brick of the structure. Next, he entered the building. Like most civilian installations, the locks were easy to defeat. There would be no sign of forced entry or any other indication that he'd been there. The organization's underlings were overly confident, he realized. The watchmen ran an hourly schedule, affording Kakashi plenty of time to get in and out unseen. He moved quickly, jumping up into the crisscrossed trusses supporting the flat ceiling to lay the necessary tags in a spiral configuration, linking them so that each would fire the next in a slow, controlled explosion.

The place was as well stocked as an armory, holding not only hand-to-hand weapons, but the latest in black-powder explosives. It wouldn't be surprising for the building to suffer a collapse: any local officials examining the scene would draw the conclusion that an electrical storm had set off an escalating series of detonations. Kakashi, of course, would be the source the lightning, but in this country of thunder and white hot fire in the sky, a sudden electrical storm would be seen as uneventful.

This portion of the copy ninja's plan was now complete. Better still, it had provided a luxurious distraction from his worries, and several hours free from self-recrimination.

Kakashi returned to the coffee shop where he'd drawn up this scheme, and rummaged through his backpack. He had no idea when the main meeting of Izumi's coworkers and clients would take place, and it would be a good idea to refamiliarize himself with the toxin Sakura had provided. Her instructions were simple, but there was possibly more she hadn't told him. He pulled a shiny metal tin from the bottom of his pack and carefully opened it. Knowing Sakura, she would have made sure that the poison itself was well-contained, but it was best not to take any chances. He was right-- the tiny pills were well-wrapped in multiple layers of waxed paper, along with a thin pair of latex gloves. And as he expected, she'd included an explanatory note. Kakashi removed the small missive and carefully unfolded it, smoothing it out before sliding it under the circle of light cast by the lamp illuminating the torn, vinyl-clad booth where he sat.

_Husband--_

Strange that she started it that way. Perhaps Sakura was worried about the note being intercepted. That did make sense. What followed was sure to be written vaguely enough that anyone reading it would consider it a simple letter between wife and husband. He read on.

_Husband,_

_I hope your trip is going well. Tsuki most certainly misses you and is likely counting the days (if not the minutes and seconds) until your return. I packed your cold medication-- I hope you don't mind such a display of wifely concern. Be sure to take it with plenty of water. A liter or two a day is a must when you are sick._

One pill per liter of water or sake. Kakashi remembered Sakura's directions clearly, but it was good to have the reminder.

_In answer to your request: I have thought again and again about this and about what it would mean. I realize that I don't know how to do what you are asking. My parents' life together was so different from ours. They were married to each other, not to their jobs. But it is clear to me that for us, something will always get in the way. Our duties must come first. There's a reason why shisou did not take this path. It simply isn't possible. Something will always get in the way: a job, a client, a request that cannot be refused._

_So my answer to you is "No." _

_I can't. I don't know how. It simply would hurt too much. It already hurts, and I can't stand it._

_I made you a promise some time ago, and I intend to keep it. Your son loves you and needs you. It is right for you to remain a part of his life-- he is fortunate to have you as his father. Let me promise you again: someday you will tell him the truth._

_I am sorry that I am too much of a coward to tell you all of this face to face. You deserve better._

_I do love you._

_--Sakura_

What the _fuck _was she telling him? Kakashi read the note again, and again, before crumpling it in frustration.

Simply put, she'd dumped him.

The problem was he still had no idea why.

She still loved him, apparently. Those couldn't be idle words-- not after all that came before it. But she wrote "I _do _love you," not a simple, "I love you." The "do" implied something quite different-- "I love you, but…" was what came to Kakashi's mind.

_I love you, but it's not working._

_I love you, but I can't risk it._

_I love you, but it's not enough._

It would almost be better to be told that she hated him.

Something had gotten in the way: she'd conveyed that much. It was time away from home and family, perhaps. Away missions were a hallmark of their profession. But extended business trips were as common among civilians as they were among shinobi. Surely her own father, a successful merchant was gone a good portion of the time to meet with suppliers and clients.

"Our shisou did not take this path." Kakashi had no idea just which path Sakura was talking about. It couldn't be _marriage_. While it was true that the fifth remained single, the fourth would have married, if time and circumstances had permitted. Sakura couldn't be referring to the impossibility of ninja-ninja relationships either. Uzumaki Kushina was as much a shinobi as Yondaime. _Their _relationship had worked just fine. While it was true that most shinobi did not marry other shinobi, there was an obvious reason for this: there simply weren't enough kunoichi to go round. The academy attracted far more male than female students.

And as for _something_--whatever it was-- getting in the way, surely Sakura knew that married ninja were assigned a different caliber of missions than their unattached colleagues. This was for the good of the village. Crumbling marriages were less likely to produce stable children. If Tsunade had known about Asuma and Kurenai, for instance, she never would have sent Asuma on the mission that ended his life. The village made sure that ninja families stuck together-- the survival of the community depended on this. As a married man, Kakashi would have right of refusal for all but the most specialized missions. So would Sakura, for that matter, although it was even more likely that she'd remain in the village due to her unparalleled medical skills. Once she returned to the hospital she was likely to stay there. Tsunade wouldn't risk losing a medic of her caliber her by sending her into the field unless absolutely necessary. This mission was different, of course. It was clear to Kakashi that the Hokage had ulterior motives in sending them out as a family. She had hoped that being forced together would cause them to stay together, preferably as a family, and Tsunade's plan had almost succeeded.

Sakura must be worried about losing him to battle. That had to be it. Sakura's mother would never have had that worry about her father; a business man's life was fairly mundane, after all, and precautions were taken to keep civilians out of the crossfire. But Kakashi was getting older, and it was common knowledge that he had been surpassed years before by much of the younger generation. The most difficult missions hadn't been assigned to him for years, and this would have been true even if he'd spent less time with the bottle. It was natural for this to occur, as the will of fire passed from one generation to the next. It just didn't make sense for Sakura to be concerned about this. He'd be home most of the time, like most ninja fathers. Certainly she knew that Ino's father, as well as Chouji's and Shikamaru's had been there for their children. Kakashi would be there for Tsuki, and for Sakura, as well. There was still a possibility that Kakashi would be called to defend the village, were it to be attacked again. In such an instance, all able-bodied shinobi were called into action.

No, it wasn't that, either. It was none of these things. Sakura was _injured_-- her note said that she was already hurting. And it was clear that Kakashi was present when she _started _hurting. He'd noticed the change in her attitude, remarked on it, even. Something had happened between them and he'd completely missed it. And it wasn't something minor, like a missed birthday or anniversary. Were this the case, the hot-tempered kunoichi would have flown into a rage, her anger quickly dissipating, once vented. This was different, not a minor scrape, but a ragged, deep incision, too deep for the ready balm of an impulse-driven rage. This letter, her brush-off, was a response to that mysterious hurt, a proactive attempt on her part to close a wound as quickly as possible to prevent it from reopening and becoming infected. It was like amputating a foot at the first sign of gangrene: an extreme step, to be sure, but possibly warranted.

But what had he done? Kakashi racked his brain, smoothing the crumpled note as he did so, before refolding it and placing it in his pocket. He needed a drink. He needed several drinks. Then he'd see more clearly, or better still, forget all about his current misery.

* * *

"It smells in here again. Any idea why?"

Sakura wrinkled her nose as she entered her son's bedroom, then moved about the small space, sniffing the room's two lamps, its several extension cords, and finally its single, overloaded wall outlet.

"What are you doing, Mommy?"

Sakura smiled at the look of innocent confusion on her son's face. This was a rare expression for the little boy-- he looked so sweet with his hands clasped behind his back and cheeks flushed pink with excitement.

"I'm worried that an electrical fire might be about to break out. I smell ozone again." She climbed to her feet after unplugging several cords from the spider-like mass of wires and plugs ganged atop each other. "This is an old building, after all. I should probably talk to Sensei about it. Why don't you go play while I do that? You haven't spent any time outside today."

"No. Susu is acting funny. He keeps howling."

"Really." Sakura walked to the window where the young cat sat, immediately noticing that it didn't respond to her. Susu's attention was fully fixed on the world beyond the fingerprint-smudged window. "He wants to go outside, I guess."

"But if I take him outside he'll run away again, right?"

"Probably. He's getting to the age where he wants to fight with other cats and find a girlfriend."

"Oh." Tsuki's face seemed to crumple as he considered her words. "I thought he liked me."

"Sweetheart." Sakura gathered her son into her arms before dropping into the oversized easy chair with a dull thud. "He does like you. He _loves _you. It's just that…"

"What?"

"He has instincts. All animals do. His instinct is telling him he needs to be outside right now, and he has no choice but to listen to it."

"But if I let him go outside, he might not come back." Tsuki frowned as he glanced at the cat seated in the window. Susu appeared to be in hunter mode, focused on the happenings outside and completely oblivious to the small boy and his concerns.

"That's true. Or he might come back in terrible shape, if there are bigger cats around. He's still pretty small, after all."

"Why does he need to fight? Does he have a territory to defend?"

"Um… not really. I don't think so, anyway. They fight to see who is dominant."

"What does that mean? To find out who is strongest?"

"Exactly."

"Like shinobi."

"Right again."

"But, if they don't have territory or riches or anything, what's the point?" Tsuki's dismissive tone of voice telegraphed his frustration.

"Well, um, the winner gets to… marry the girl cat and have kittens."

"Cats get married?"

"Kind of."

"But what if there's more than one female cat? Then all the boy cats could _all _get married, right? They wouldn't need to fight."

"Well… I guess it could work out that way."

"So Susu could come home without getting beat up." Sakura's son smiled brightly. In his mind, the problem appeared to be solved.

"It's possible, but Tsuki, he's so small. It really wouldn't be worth taking the chance."

"Oh. I guess you're right."

"Susu doesn't understand why he feels the way he does, and he doesn't understand why he wants to run outside and fight. None of the cats do. Instinct doesn't work that way. It's more like a craving. You crave chocolate sometimes, right?"

"Yes!" Tsuki rolled his eyes in pretended anguish. "Like right now!"

"And even if you think about it, you can't make that craving go away. An instinct is like that-- it's like a craving to do something."

"So Susu is craving to go outside, but he really doesn't know why."

"Right. And it's hard to make the thought go away."

"Hmm." Well-oiled gears appeared to be turning in the little boy's head. "Humans are animals, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"So do humans have uncontrollable instincts? Like to get a girlfriend and make babies?"

Sakura looked carefully at her son before answering.

"Yes. Sometimes."

"Do you crave that? To be married again and have more kids?"

"Silly. I have you, don't I?" Sakura rose from the chair, tickling Tsuki as she did so. He defended himself by pushing her away, exposing soot-blackened fingers.

"Have you been playing in the fireplace?"

Tsuki hung his head, but did not respond.

Sakura sighed in exasperation.

"Go out and play in back while I talk to Sensei, but make sure Susu doesn't get out, okay? I'll be back in an hour or so."

* * *

A ship was the last place Kakashi needed to be, after a night of drunkenness. _Rai no mizu_, the preferred drink of the area, was true to its name. It was like drinking lightning, the burning sensation it caused as it traveled down his esophagus was as electrifying as a blast from the skies. It was at least forty percent alcohol as it hadn't taken much to fully inebriate him. But he supposed his tolerance must have declined a bit in the past few months.

It was bad above decks, with the unforgivably bright sun nearly blinding him, but worse below, where the timbers of the ship stunk of creosote. Kakashi couldn't help but gag each time he smelled the pungent, all-penetrating odor, and as his stomach was still fairly full of alcohol he was sure it wouldn't be the best idea to lose his breakfast all over the well-scrubbed wooden floors. At least up here he could lean over the gunwales if necessary.

Izumi was in another strange mood, pacing the length of the upper deck repeatedly as she talked to herself. She appeared to be plotting something, but this was not surprising. The closer they got to Mizu, the more agitated she seemed to become and the more pronounced her gesticulations became. Izumi paused in her ambulatory circuit to speak to Kakashi, but did not really include him in her conversation, which seemed to be focused on Karai.

"He's so stupid. You think he would realize I sent him back to Grass for a reason."

"And that would be…?" Kakashi might have offered if there was any chance of her acknowledging his presence with a response. Not that he was offended: he preferred being overlooked by the woman.

"My father will be so angry when we disembark and Karai isn't with us. He's supposed to be in charge, you know." A throaty chuckle emanated from the golden-haired harpy.

"I thought you were the superior," Kakashi couldn't resist commenting.

"Oh, I _am_. But my father hasn't officially recognized that. But now he will!" She tossed her windblown hair. "It's not like Karai wants the job, anyway. Or deserves it. He hasn't even worked on the presentation we're supposed to give. It's only right that I deliver it by myself, since I'm going to work on it all alone."

"Ah."

"Oh, and where were you last night? I sent my driver to your room, but you weren't there. I even came down myself looking for you." She lowered her brows in a grimace of frustration. "I didn't give you permission to run off, you know. You're supposed to be working."

"Twenty-four/seven? That seems a bit harsh." So was the sun. Kakashi's head was pounding with a full-fledged hangover, and it was not helped by the combined brightness of the cloudless sky and the reflected golden glitter off the choppy waves.

"Whenever I need you. And I needed you last night. Don't think I'm going to let you get away tonight." She laid a possessive hand on his shoulder as she spoke. He didn't bother brushing it away. With Izumi, it paid to pick ones battles carefully. "Look, we're almost there."

Izumi pointed due east, but Kakashi saw the seabird well before he noticed land. It seemed they were flying out to meet them: not only the typical herring and laughing gulls, but cormorants and brown pelicans, as well. Mizu must have built a port quite close to the estuary he remembered. The two were typically not compatible-- the city would have undertaken a huge dredging project to carve out the depth needed for a ship of this size. It was a wonder so many birds had survived its construction.

Mizu was different than he remembered. He noticed the changes as soon as the ship put into harbor. It had a skyline now. Acres and acres of marshland had been converted to buildable land, and the shimmering fields of spartina and cattail were almost gone. Kakashi craned his neck as he looked for the rarer birds he remembered: ibis, egret and spoonbill. Perhaps it was a sign that none of the latter were around-- the beautiful, shockingly pink birds had likely taken their leave of the place.

It didn't matter, Kakashi told himself. He would have been saddened even if he'd seen them: they reminded him too much of Sakura.

He turned to Izumi and forced a smile. "Is that your father I see at the end of the gangplank?"

* * *

After her conversation with Tsuki, Sakura needed a few moments to herself. The boy had triggered some questions in the kunoichi's mind, and she needed time alone to think carefully. Sakura thought she could count on a few minutes of peace and quiet in the sanctuary of the weeping willow-- just few minutes away from family and patients where she could take deep relaxing breaths and put her thoughts in order. The riverside willow was easily her favorite place in the village, a place of sweet memories that she promised herself she would not forget. She'd fallen in love again here, allowing her buried feelings for Kakashi to burgeon and flourish. She'd seen her son learn the art of the sword here and saw her lover truly become a father to her son.

If only.

If only he could have kept it in his pants.

If only he knew how to be faithful.

If only he cared about her enough to _want _to be.

But maybe it was instinct, as her son had unwittingly suggested. Maybe men weren't capable of being monogamous. Or pragmatism. Perhaps Kakashi had decided to put the mission first. Was it really that wrong to do so? Part of her knew that the answer should be "no," but a louder, more primal part of her emphatically screamed "yes," effectively drowning out the more reasonable portion of her psyche. Maybe it was wrong to want him all to herself, and maybe it was unreasonable-- even selfish-- but this was how she felt. Wouldn't it be worse to carry on with this feeling unexpressed, and watch their relationship slowly devolve as this wound to her ego festered and suppurated?

Sakura was sure she'd never loved someone as much as she loved Hatake Kakashi. He wasn't the person he was years before. He was more than that-- more than the S-class ninja who had taken team seven under his wing, more than the aloof, seemingly disinterested porn lover who put his team first at all costs. And he was much more than the dissipated alcoholic he once was. He was an amazing father, a thoughtful lover, and more. She felt comfortable and safe around him, yet paradoxically excited by his every caress.

If only things had worked out.

She realized she wanted desperately to forgive him, to put this ugly fragment of their history behind them. To begin anew.

"Sakura?"

The kunoichi looked up to see a disembodied, golden-haired head peering in through the green curtain of willow leaves.

"Karai." She stood as he entered her sanctuary and felt the small hairs at the back of her neck spring to attention.

"I came here to be alone. Do you mind…"

"This is my favorite place, too. A good place to sit and think." He dropped to the ground and spread out his long legs as though he were planning to stay awhile.

Sakura sighed. Subtleties were lost on the man.

"I'll be seeing you, I guess." The kunoichi moved toward the periphery of the verdant circle, careful to keep her front towards him, and was surprised to hear Karai's chuckle and see his matching grin. His wasn't the face of a predator, and his laugh was a warm, honestly amused sound.

"Don't go. Actually, I saw you go in here." He waved a bandaged hand as her eyes widened. "Don't worry. I'm not after anything. I want to apologize to you."

Still wary, Sakura walked slowly towards him, assessing the situation. With taijutsu and her chakra-laden right hook, she was sure she'd be able to escape him.

"Your husband had every right to break my hand. It's healing well, by the way."

"Katayama-sensei saw to it, I assume."

"Yes. And asked no questions. She knows me well."

It was more likely that Sensei didn't want to hear the answers, as they were sure to be poorly constructed lies.

"Your apology?" Sakura's patience was wearing thin.

"It was a game between Izumi and me. Whenever we come across a new couple, we always bet to see who can be the first to seduce their target. I…well, it was wrong to do it. I'd say I did it out of boredom, but that wouldn't be honest. It was always fun before."

"But not this time? Why? Because broken bones were involved?" Sakura smiled bitterly, both at Karai's childish repentance, professed only due to pain, and at the memory of Kakashi's possessive rage at seeing the two of them together. She had already heard what Karai was telling her. Apparently he did not know this.

"No. That's not it. This was the first time I was interrupted, and the first time I saw an immediate response to what I was doing. It struck me that for all my fun I was causing pain."

"I see." So what was next? Perhaps he was planning to grab her again-- maybe this was a show of honesty to get her to lower her guard. Sakura's muscles tensed involuntarily at the thought.

"Pretty much everything I do with Izumi causes pain. That's why I'm leaving."

"Leaving?" That wasn't good. Neither was the sudden change of heart. One hundred eighty degree turns in attitude often righted themselves, and the last thing Konoha needed was another heir to an assassinated family seeking vengeance. A plan quickly assembled itself as Sakura considered her options. She'd need to take care of Karai before he left the village, or he'd eventually figure out the reason for the deaths of his family and colleagues. He wasn't stupid, after all-- quite the contrary. Sakura had learned long ago that stupid and lazy did not equate.

She could take him out with her bare hands, but that might be messy. Breaking his neck would be the quickest, cleanest option, but he was too tall for that to be feasible, and the fact that he studied kendo suggested he might know other martial arts as well. Unfortunately, she'd brought no tools with her. Sakura scanned the area as nonchalantly as possible, looking for a rock or any nearby object she might use as projectile. If all else failed, she could punch him repeatedly, she guessed. But that would be noisy, and relatively slow.

"So where are you going?" She might as well stall for time.

"Off on my own. My father owes me some money. I'll see him, collect it, and be on my way." He laughed bitterly. "Actually, I have no choice. If I don't get my father's 'blessing,' he'll hunt me down. We stick together, you see. There's nothing like family, is there?"

Sakura relaxed at these words. If Karai was heading to Mizu, there was no problem. Izumi and his father were probably expecting him, in fact-- there was no need to kill him right now. Kakashi would take care of it.

"My husband mentioned a big meeting."

"Yeah. I'll talk to him then. He'll be distracted, and with all of his clients around, he won't be able to say no." A self-satisfied smile crept across Karai's handsome face. "It's failure-proof, really."

"And what will you do after that? On your own?"

Karai scratched his head. "Well, I'm good at sales. I think I'd like to try something more…legal. Maybe set up someplace where I wouldn't have to travel so much, a big city with everything I'd need."

Meaning alcohol and women, no doubt.

"You look sad, Sakura. Don't tell me it's because I'm leaving." A look of faux astonishment distorted Karai's face as he spoke, and the kunoichi was reminded of Izumi. She clenched her fists.

"No. It's not that."

"Ah. You miss your husband."

Sakura took a breath. "Actually, I was thinking about your sister. You may have lost, but she won."

"What?" Karai looked genuinely confused by her statement.

"She won the bet you made. She seduced my husband. Sorry if I can't be as glib as you about it."

"No. There's no way."

"I saw them."

"You saw the two of them having sex?"

"I saw her…giving him…" Sakura's face reddened.

"A blow job? Yeah, that would count." Karai shook his head authoritatively. "But there's no way that happened."

_"I saw it." _Sakura tapped her temple as she spoke slowly, as though to a sluggish child._  
_  
"You don't understand Izumi."

"I think I do. She's a predator, just like you."

"That part's true. But she's also a competitor-- world class. Always has been. She competes over everything, and worse, does her best to humiliate the loser when she wins. She makes professional athletes look like children the way she brags about her skills. If she'd won our wager she would have let me know. She didn't. Therefore…" Karai crossed his arms across his chest and shrugged, as though his logic was impeccable.

"So because she didn't boast about it, it didn't happen?"

"You must have seen something else. I'm telling you, she would have told me. She's woken me up in the middle of the night to give me the news and rub it in."

"You're sure."

"What reason do I have to lie to you? This obviously isn't some ploy to get you in the sack-- I'm leaving in just a few minutes. And I think you realize I wouldn't do anything to help Izumi, even if she is my sister."

"Good bye, then."

Sakura pushed her way through willow's draping branches and walked slowly over the grassy hill that led to the main road. The incline was not that great, but as usual, she was winded. That was to be expected at this stage of pregnancy. Her body was still building an elaborate life support system, and using a large amount of oxygen and food to do so. The kunoichi gently rubbed her belly as she walked. It wouldn't be long until she would be able to feel fetal movements. Even without using the elaborate jutsu Tsunade had taught her, Sakura could now feel the new life's chakra signature growing stronger every day.

When she approached the road Sakura rested on a low stone wall separating one field from another. She felt rested enough to continue, but knew she shouldn't push it. She closed her eyes for a moment, as she tilted her face toward the sun. The day was lovely and warm, the air less humid than usual and slightly breezy. Sakura looked down the road and smiled as she noticed a bright red carriage blocking the narrow, rutted path. Karai certainly knew how to travel in style. From the kamon emblazoned on the carriage door, it was evident that this was the daimyou's personal vehicle. She waved when she saw Karai approaching the vehicle. So it was true that he was leaving.

Sakura rose and walked in the opposite direction. The road was empty, and the only noises accompanying her were the sound of her own feet against crushed gravel, and the incessant cheering of cicadas. There were few houses between the river and the walls of the village, mostly farmland and pasture baked brown by late summer heat. She'd miss this place, she realized, and its quiet beauty.

Sakura smiled as she came upon a roadside shrine she'd barely noticed before. It was little more than roof plus rough-hewn stone altar. A half-smiling stone jizo gazed down upon her as she approached, and Sakura noticed that small structure was hung with long strips of faded paper and simple chimes. There were tiny garments hanging as well. Suspended, moth-eaten baby shoes told Sakura that this was a memorial shrine to lost infants, the mizuko. That made sense: Jizo was an incarnation of Buddha responsible for the well-being not only of travelers, but of the dead. A sudden breeze resulted in a rich song from the chimes hung from the rafters of the structure. They quickly became entangled on their strings, and Sakura found herself pulling each bell free of the others, intent on allowing the chimes to continue their singing. Some she freed easily, while others were more troublesome. The detail-oriented medic pulled hard to separate the last tangle, then stood back to admire her work. But as she looked at the freely dangling items, she gasped. Karai was right. Kakashi had not cheated on her. Sakura had mistaken an innocent interaction for something far worse.

* * *

"You've been drinking." Izumi stepped aside as Kakashi entered her suite. "_Rai no mizu_, from the smell of it. Did you bring it with you? That stuff is shit--no one sells it here." She walked to the fully stocked bar and poured him a glass and passed it to him. "Bourbon is much better."

Kakashi threw back the contents in a single swallow, relishing the warmth and complex, earthy flavor of the expensive beverage as it slid effortlessly down his throat. It wasn't that different from his favorite imo-jochu, but much smoother. He held out his glass and closed his eyes as Izumi poured him another shot. This was just what he needed. And now that his relationship with Sakura was over, it really didn't matter if he slept with his target. In fact, it would help things along.

"Kampai! There's plenty more." Izumi chuckled as Kakashi attempted to slake his rampant thirst. She left the room for a moment, and returned with a leather-bound binder in her hands.

Thirst temporarily sated, the copy ninja noticed the silk peignoir Izumi wore. Its rust color and black lace trim suited her perfectly, setting off the warm golden tones of her skin. The matching feather trimmed mules were a bit much, but if he closed his eyes, he could pretend. He could ignore the liter of fragrance she was wearing and the underlying smell of her skin as well, and imagine she was someone else. Anyone else. The barmaid back at his favorite dive, the clerk at Pink, any random prostitute. Anyone but her. Or Sakura.

"I thought you could be an audience while I run through my presentation for tomorrow. It needs to be perfect. And then," Izumi smiled beguilingly. "I really need a backrub. You'll help me out, won't you?"

Kakashi nodded resignedly, and sat back in a sleek, black leather armchair as Izumi began her talk.

Was this really all that life had in store for him?


	29. Chapter 29 Chidori

**A Book of Five Rings**

Chapter 29

**Chidori**

"How dare you?"

Izumi's slap packed quite a bit of force, and Kakashi was fairly certain she'd left a bright red mark, if not a welt, on his cheek.

"How _fucking_ dare you? What makes you think you can come here, and-- and-- _lead_ _me_ _on_ like this?"

He hadn't led her on. All Kakashi agreed to was a massage-- a back rub, nothing more. He had in no way indicated that he might be interested in taking things further, although he had certainly been considering doing just that. But thankfully, blessedly, he'd had a change of heart. Sakura might have given up on him, but even in a drunken stupor he'd realized that he wouldn't-- no, he _couldn't_ give up on her. It would be physically impossible. He needed Sakura. He craved her. He loved her more than he'd ever loved another. And he wasn't going to let some obliquely worded "Dear Kakashi" letter push him away. He'd fight for her if necessary, force her to tell him exactly what he'd done wrong. And then he'd fix it. He'd do whatever it took to get her back. Humiliation, groveling, self-castigation: absolutely anything was on the table.

That this change of heart had occurred mid-massage, just as Izumi lowered the peignoir from her shoulders was in no way material to the argument, at least not in Kakashi's mind. Not that it mattered. What did matter was for him to weather the storm already in progress and jettison himself from Izumi's suite as quickly as possible. Hopefully she didn't have any of her firm's weapons with her, particularly the new, black powder based ones. He'd need some practice before he was sure he'd be able to dodge that style of weapon.

He and Sakura would have lots of intelligence to share with the Hokage upon their return.

"_I'm_ in charge here, not you."

She hadn't let up, although she must have noticed his attention had drifted.

"You fucking _loser_. Do you really think you're that special?"

No, not at all. He was probably like every other toe-sucking lackey Izumi had bedded, a hapless employee with a job to keep, a family to support and an appendage to debase. Well, except for the fact that he was shinobi. Regardless, never before had Kakashi felt such a deep bond of kinship with the put-upon secretaries of the world.

"Because you're not. You're not special. You're just my fuck of the month. Nothing more. I can get anyone, absolutely anyone I want." Izumi backed away from him, rage evident in the vein in her forehead throbbing to a staccato beat, and in the bright, almost fluorescent orange-pink color of her face. "You _coward_." She nearly spat the word. "You don't even have anything to say, do you?"

Kakashi responded calmly-- the liter of alcohol he'd consumed that evening saw to this. Thankfully, spirits magnified the laid-back aspects of his personality. He was not a lachrymose or angry drunk, just a more numb and laconic version of his normal self.

"Why would I have anything to say? We've had this conversation before. I told you I was happily married and that nothing would come between my wife and me. Don't you remember?"

Izumi looked at him as if he were mad. Clearly she had no such recollection. She ran her fingers through hair disheveled in the past few minutes as she'd danced an abbreviated strip tease for his benefit. Her hand brushed her ear and her eyes suddenly lit with understanding.

"Wait a minute. I do remember." She dropped to the bed and pitched forward in a graceless effort to remove the high-heeled mule she wore.

Kakashi ducked easily as the shoe flew past him and embedded itself heel first in the gilt-trimmed door. Even drunk he had the reflexes to avoid such a projectile, although she was a very good shot considering her intoxication.

"You did this to me." She touched her ear again. "You pushed me away that night and did this to me. No wonder I couldn't remember. You fucking _wounded_ me." Izumi grabbed the silken robe she'd thrown on the bed and rubbed it like a talisman, rocking uneasily from side to side as she did so, causing Kakashi to wonder if she was about to pass out or revert to some childlike, regressive state.

"Get out." the command was almost whispered.

"I said, 'Get out.' _Now_." She pulled herself upright and collected herself quite quickly, once again displaying her imperious, overbearing persona. "I want you out of this building by 8 am. If you're not gone by then, I'll have my father's men remove you."

A huge grin spread across the copy ninja's face as he shut the door behind him. Never had being fired felt so good.

He had realized belatedly that the fact that the mission was essentially over changed his role considerably. All that was needed was to taint the beverages for the next day's meeting. He could assume another identity to do this; in fact, that would be preferable. There was absolutely no reason to remain in Izumi's employ, and therefore no way in which sleeping with her would secure the mission. Doing so would be a sop to his ego, perhaps, or a pathetic diversion from the problems he faced. Nothing more.

As this knowledge became clear to him just minutes before, the freedom he felt was exuberating. For once he had determined the right thing to do in a seemingly hopeless personal situation, and more importantly, he'd realized it in time to _do_ the right thing. Kakashi's drunkenness dissipated quickly as adrenalin recharged his nervous system, and after quickly packing a few necessary supplies in the backpack he'd brought along to Mizu, he happily left behind his overpriced room, as well as Izumi's earlier gift of an expensive suit and designer suitcase. It felt so good to be free of that woman, relieved of her constant irritation. It felt even better to know that he'd kept his promise of fidelity to Sakura.

Kakashi made his way to the lowest floor of the building where he knew the kitchens were. The inn was small, an expensive boutique hotel that had very little in the way of meeting facilities. He'd noted earlier that the single ballroom was reserved for Izumi's Mizushima group, as were the smaller, adjacent meeting rooms. This would make his work much easier: all food and beverages waiting in the catering kitchen would be going to the same place. It would be impossible to make a mistake when he poisoned the water and sake. Taking innocent life, accidentally or otherwise was something he wished to avoid at all costs. Taking the lives of the guilty was bad enough.

Despite the very early hour, the kitchen was busy. Kakashi used the most basic of genjutsu to blend into a wall of pots and pans as he watched the controlled chaos of an efficient cooking staff. He carefully scanned the room to determine its layout and the interactions of the chefs and servers. Carafes, he saw, were already placed on a metal cart, although they would not be delivered for some time. He'd already noticed the ballroom was in the process of being set up. Large round folding tables were still on their conveyance, and tall stacks of chairs bordered the expansive, chandelier-lit room.

Two enormous casks of sake stood nearby, each on its own sturdy wooden cart, and each adorned with the traditional woven-straw covering that signified both quality and rarity. Kakashi was glad Sakura had prepared such a large supply of the poison. Apparently these men knew how to drink. Fifty high-placed staff and key clients had been invited, but there was enough alcohol there to pickle two or three times that number. And it was daiginjou sake of the highest quality-- the Mizushima group obviously knew how to entertain their guests.

Some of the cooking and wait staff were about to take a break:. this was easy to see from their fidgeting. Several of them were clearly smokers in the throes of a nicotine crisis. Kakashi followed a small group outside and patiently bided his time until one broke off from the crowd. The copy ninja pulled the unsuspecting man into the shrubbery and held him in a lock, forcing enough time-release chakra into his vagus nerve to cause the man to sleep for a good five hours or so.

Moments later, Kakashi rejoined the group. He'd been very lucky. The man he'd replaced was a server, not a cook, and was therefore tasked with the most menial of jobs. Although his disguise was good—impeccable, really-- Kakashi had no experience with professional cooking. He was certain this lack of skill would have given him away, should he have played the part of sous or line chef. Apart from that, this server would likely be taking the beverages to the ballroom. If not, Kakashi was sure that he could arrange things so that this would be the case. Everyone loved a volunteer, after all, especially one who asked for the scut work.

A couple of hours passed, during which time Kakashi polished silverware, arranged crudités on platters and performed a myriad of sundry tasks that made him glad he'd missed out on this particular calling. Finally, however, word came into the kitchen that the ballroom was set up, and Kakashi quickly volunteered to bring the beverages to the hall. Once alone in the elevator, he flipped the stop switch and got to work, but not before checking the space for hidden cameras. He found none, but this wasn't surprising. A place like this prided itself on providing complete privacy for its guests. It was guarded heavily enough on the exterior that internal cameras were completely unnecessary, even in a freight elevator. Apart from that, knowledge that the hotel used hidden cameras would be off-putting to the hotel's well-heeled clientele. Therefore, Kakashi felt secure in the knowledge that he would be unobserved in his task.

One pill would be enough for each of the carafes. However, each huge taru held one hundred liters of sake. Kakashi split the remaining poison between the two containers, after removing a wax-sealed cork from each. Diffusion would take care of distributing the drug within each water bottle; however, something more was needed to ensure that all partakers of the sake were given a potent dose of the toxin. Kakashi thought for a moment, then moved his hands rapidly through the succession of seals needed to unleash a very small version of bakufu no jutsu. He blew into each cask, and satisfied that the small whirlpool within had adequately mixed its contents, remelted the wax to seal its contents perfectly.

He then wheeled the beverages into the spacious ballroom, made sure each table had its own supply of tainted water, and left the room with a smile on his face.

Henge was chakra-consuming: keeping it going for three hours had left the copy ninja fatigued. Once in the lobby, Kakashi took the opportunity to lose his disguise. He needed ample time to recharge before leaving Mizu, time free from chakra-draining activities. Kakashi grabbed a complimentary newspaper and steaming cup of coffee, sat down in a plush lounge chair and propped his feet up on its matching ottoman. He'd wait until the meeting was well-underway and assume the server's identity once more to ascertain that everyone had drunk at least some of the water or rice wine. Then he'd happily leave this place, but not before shaking the dust off of his feet.

The newspaper provided adequate cover, he decided. Izumi had likely sent staff to his room to be sure that he was gone, but it was unlikely that the staff would search the premises. It would be quite unseemly for them to approach other guests in search of Kakashi, particularly as his transgression was sex-related. Kakashi had no idea how Izumi had described her interaction to the staff, but they had seen her draped all over him the night before. And surely she'd pulled this kind of stunt before. Discretion, the Sharingan user knew, was a key characteristic of places like this luxury hotel. The staff here wouldn't cause a scene and they wouldn't allow Izumi's men to do so either. Even if they did locate Kakashi they were much more likely to quietly escort him out of the building with a public pretense of an urgent message or something similar he needed to attend to, rather than bounce him from the place. Until then, he might as well relax. It was going to be a long journey home.

Satisfied with this plan, Kakashi set down his over-sized paper for a moment and picked up his coffee. He looked around the room as he did so to see if he noticed any of the guests filtering across the lobby and down the hall to the ballroom. It would be useful to have names of the meeting's attendees. Maybe he could get a hold of the guest book for a few minutes and memorize it.

Strange. There was Karai, chatting up the very attractive clerk helming the concierge booth. Apparently Izumi had not been successful in keeping her brother away. Score one for Karai, and good for him, Kakashi decided.

"Funny seeing you here. Why aren't you in the meeting?" Karai strolled up to the copy ninja with a relaxed smile upon his face. "Wait. Let me guess. Izumi threw you out, didn't she?" The well-tanned blond sat down next to Kakashi and chuckled. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Nail on the head." Kakashi shrugged. "I'm just waiting for my taxi."

"Well, good for you." The man laughed again, transforming his face into a network of crinkles. "She won't be very happy to see me. But I'm not staying very long, either. Just between you and me, I'm out of here."

"Oh?" Kakashi thought fast, sizing up the man as he did so. "Listen. I hate to bother you, but Izumi hasn't paid me. Do you think--"

"Sorry, guy, I'm out of cash." This was extremely unlikely, Kakashi knew, given the thickness of the billfold Karai had just displayed to the attractive, red-haired concierge who was even now smiling at him suggestively.

"No, no, it's not that." The copy ninja forced a chuckle he hoped was conspiratorial. "I was wondering if you could get me a bite to eat from the buffet. And a glass of water. My last meal on the company, so to speak. I can't walk in there myself, and I'm starved."

A glint lit Karai's eyes. "Sure. I'll just sneak into the meeting and see if I can grab some food and get out without anyone noticing. Like a ninja, you know?"

He returned fairly quickly and placed a serving platter piled high with fruits, cheeses and cream bread on a nearby table. He'd brought two smaller plates and also two glasses of water. This was what Kakashi had hoped for. He had the feeling Karai wasn't done talking to him yet, and if he really were leaving, it was imperative that he drink the tainted water or sake first.

Kakashi observed the grinning fool. Karai was obviously rather pleased with his successful mission. Of course he couldn't know that a job of this caliber was literally child's play in a village like Konoha.

"Nine a.m. and they're already hitting the sake. Did you hear them yelling in there?"

Kakashi thought he'd heard people shouting "Kampai." That explained it.

"Happens earlier and earlier every year. Someone had the bright idea of mixing the sake with orange juice. Every single person in there is toasted. Except for Izumi. She's pissed. And I don't mean drunk. She's livid. She didn't see me, though."

Kakashi couldn't help but grin at the news. The aging beauty's talk was not going to be quite the success she'd hoped. Better still, Kakashi's main objective was now complete, except for two targets. But he had no doubt Izumi's throat would be feeling dry before the morning was through. Once her speech was finished, she'd hit the sake with a vengeance. And as for Karai, that problem should be solved in a matter of minutes.

"No juice for you?"

"I couldn't even if I wanted to. It's all gone. They're drinking the sake straight now, and it's three hours until noon. Anyway, I need to be sober when I talk to my father."

"So, where are you off to? And why?" Kakashi asked as he joined Karai at the table. He picked up a piece of cheese for himself and smiled as Karai followed suit. The man really was suggestible.

"Actually, it's your fault," Karai said between mouthfuls of the salty local offering.

"My fault?"

"When you broke my hand-- no hard feelings, by the way-- I realized something."

"Ah." A pain-provoked epiphany. Those tended to be short lived, Kakashi knew from experience: a hundred splitting headaches had produced a hundred resolutions to dry out. His best effort had lasted a good six hours, if he remembered correctly. Hair of the dog, and all.

"That the way I was living my life was unacceptable. I'm a leech on others-- my family, their business, and of course on happy couples. I'd never encountered the husband of one of my women before. I deserved everything you did to me. And I don't want to play second fiddle to Izumi. She deserves the company, but of course she'll be an asshole about it, once my dad announces her promotion. So I'm leaving, and starting over. Maybe to Wind-- the women there are shameless under all that clothing. Or Fire." Karai grinned lasciviously, suggesting to Kakashi that this man's new leaf might already be senescing. "I've heard those girls are crazy in bed. But I'm going to stick to single girls. And start my own business-- something on the up and up."

"I really don't know what to say to all this." Who would have thought a man as dissolute as Karai would even try to carve out a new life? Then again, who would have thought that Kakashi, too, could do the same?

"You never slept with Izumi, did you? Or did anything sexual with her?" The womanizer's face had lost its smile and taken on a serious look Kakashi had never seen before.

Kakashi raised a silver eyebrow. "Where did that come from?"

"You're smart. You knew about the game we were playing. And apart from that, you love your wife, don't you?"

"Of...course. Of course I do--"

Perhaps Karai was planning to drop a bombshell on him-- that in Kakashi's absence he'd finally seduced her. That Sakura was unbelievably hot in bed and eager, so eager to please. The copy ninja felt his fists tighten, and his nails dig into the callused skin of his palms. Cover be damned: he'd kill the bastard then and there--

"I told her that. That you didn't sleep with her. Izumi would have told _me_ if you had."

"W-what?" Perhaps he had misheard. "Sakura-- _What_?"

"I saw her a couple of days ago. She thinks Izumi gave you a blow job. She said she saw it."

"That wasn't--"

"I told her she had to be mistaken." Karai raised the water glass to his mouth and drained its contents in two long swallows. "She didn't believe me."

"I need to go." Kakashi stood rapidly, breakfast forgotten. It all made sense, suddenly. If she'd seen him-- or thought she'd seen him-- being fellated by Izumi, of course she'd reacted the way she did. She must have been beside herself with anger.

No, it was _unhappiness _she'd felt: soul-crushing, life-changing unhappiness of the first caliber. Kakashi now knew the cause of Sakura's inconsolable sadness. She'd assumed he'd cheated on her, but that he'd done it for business reasons and not out of sheer debauchery. That was what the letter meant, and in a strange way it was a credit to him. But despite this, she was unable to deal with it, unwilling to tolerate infidelity even if it was for the sake of the mission.

He really couldn't blame her. For a moment he imagined Sakura in another's arms. But the thought of her with another, even to gather intelligence or to set up a kill was not something he could stomach.

Kakashi body-flickered to the harbor in search of a ship that might be leaving soon. He found nothing large enough to traverse the distance to the land of Waves, or to the port at Lightning. This was a problem. The mainland was five hours away by boat. He couldn't water walk for that long, not on seas as choppy as these, and not in broad daylight. Although civilians often blinked their eyes once or twice before dismissing the out of the ordinary events they might see around an unidentified shinobi, there were some things that even they would squawk at.

He'd have to teleport, instead.

It was fortunate that he'd learned how to store chakra years before. Although he couldn't hold nearly as much as the fifth, Kakashi usually had enough in reserve to fire off two or three more raikiri when absolutely needed. But with the extended henge no jutsu this morning, his reserves were considerably lower than normal. Still, he'd have enough to make the trip without any problem.

Kakashi headed away from the industrial part of the city, toward the run-down fringes of town where things were sure to be quiet. He'd need time, space and privacy to cast the sutra needed to teleport. The sight of a scarred-face man bleeding onto the sidewalk in foreign cursive would be sure to raise some eyebrows, and maybe even the police. The technical specialist kept walking until he found the outskirts of town, and the small remnant of an estuary he'd hoped for. The water was shallow and muddy to his left, the perfect habitat for the many small shorebirds that scurried back and forth across its surface. They defended their small territories as they hunted for the small worms and fly larvae embedded in the slimy, foul-smelling algal mats that littered the mudflat. The birds were chidori, if he wasn't mistaken, tiny ring-necked plovers that trembled their orange feet against the sodden ground to tempt prey to the surface.

To the right was deeper water and a weathered boardwalk into the reeds. Once he'd traveled a few minutes along it, Kakashi was completely isolated. His only company was the assembly of large, wading birds that had flown into the air when he first arrived, which were only now settling down again. In an area free of taller plants the copy ninja saw a heron dabbling for its midmorning meal, occasionally shading the water with the ash blue umbrella of its wing to better see the fish below and perhaps tempt them into slightly cooler water.

Kakashi watched as fish shiny and fluid as quicksilver rushed into the shady patch created by the regal wader, seemingly unaware of the long-legged predator that towered above them. With a feathered rush and a smooth, elegant snap the bulk of them disappeared into the bird's blue- embroidered gullet. Kakashi could see the minnows slight but continued wriggling as the heron swallowed them whole. The bird's feathers ruffled as its meal slid, struggling, down the long expanse of its sinuous neck. Whoever had said life was gentle, peaceable and kind had never truly observed nature. The copy ninja knew it to be a struggle of adversaries, of predator against weaker prey. The only place where this wasn't true was among humans, and only a very small part of the time. It was on the rare occasions that humans rose above their baser instincts to work together--sharing when it was easier to steal, forgiving when it was easier to avenge-- that they moved outside the ferocious circle of life.

As shinobi, Kakashi was fully part of this circle, at least where work was involved. His job was animalistic by nature. He avenged, he stole, he assassinated. On his time off, he abused himself and tomcatted. But it could be said that some of this was for a higher purpose. He did these things to prevent the wholesale massacres that would otherwise occur; the remaining acts were to assuage his guilt. He remained an animal so that others could pursue a more noble path..

For so long this was all he was—a tool of the village, the unfeeling beast sent to carry a small town's burdens. But with Sakura and Tsuki, he'd become something more. He'd risen above the circle of pain and suffering that had defined his life since childhood. Life with his family was peaceable. It was kind and gentle, soothing and absolutely beautiful.

He wanted that life back desperately.

Kakashi knelt on the weathered boards of the pathway and splayed his hand against its surface after slashing his palm open. His blood flowed freely into an ornate circular mandala, arranging itself into the complex sutra needed to move human flesh a great distance. A bird landed nearby as he worked, but he ignored it until its incessant chatter forced him to look up.

It was a roseate spoonbill, the pink-winged bird that had reminded him of Sakura, long ago. The copy ninja couldn't help but smile as the bird displayed its considerable wingspan and dropped a feather which floated gently to the ground. Surely this was a good omen.

…..

"Tsuki?"

Sakura woke up from a sorely needed nap to a much-too-quiet apartment. With a four and a half year old in the house, this was not a good thing. Usually there was some sound-- the creaking noise made by her son jumping upon his bed, the distinctive rumbling of the cat's purrs, or alternately, its yowling-- something. She immediately knew the apartment was empty.

Sakura looked out her bedroom window into the gathering dusk with a clear intuition of her son's location.

Susu was also gone. She should have noticed this immediately: he'd taken to sleeping atop her belly during her ever more frequent late afternoon naps. Tsuki would not have taken Susu out to play-- they'd discussed that before, and her son, while rambunctious, was very obedient. He wouldn't lie to her, or disobey her commands: he never had done so before. Rather, the cat must have gotten out again. Tsuki's half-open window was the most likely route of egress.

Damn over-sexed adolescent.

The kunoichi pulled on shoes while wishing for her Konoha-issued sandals. They were much more comfortable than the woven ones she was currently wearing. These cut into her feet which had already begun to swell despite the relative earliness of this pregnancy. That wasn't too surprising: second pregnancies were often completely dissimilar to a woman's first. One might have morning sickness and another cravings. But tending to these differences was imperative. Given that she was on her feet at least twelve hours per day, comfort, not beauty, was her main goal when it came to footwear, clothing and just about everything else. She couldn't wait to go back to Konoha and the simple, predictable comforts of her ninja life. It would be good to sleep in her own house, in her own bed again. And maybe Kakashi would be there, too, assuming the note she'd written hadn't sent him packing.

Her impulsiveness was still an issue, she realized. Kakashi had changed, really changed. Had she? Sakura hoped so. She hoped she was more forgiving, more patient than she'd been in the past. She didn't run from her problems anymore-- at least this was one positive change. But she was still quick to jump to conclusions. She should have asked Kakashi to explain himself. And she should have heard him out. He deserved that much. And more.

At least it was going to rain, she thought as she watched thunderheads scud across the sky. But even without that sign, she could feel indications of precipitation. The air seemed dense and weighted with moisture, and despite its almost suffocating thickness, she could feel the change in pressure. That was good. A long, cleansing rain would mitigate the extreme humidity that covered the village like a sweaty wool blanket.

Sakura hurried to the edge of town, where she was fairly certain she'd find both son and cat. And she did find them after trudging slowly up the hundred steps to the shrine; however, they were not where she expected. Neither was rolling in the catnip patch. Instead, Tsuki sat high atop the rickety red torii that commanded the space, Susu right next to him, both perfectly content as they gazed out over the shrine, and completely unaware of her presence.

Apparently her prodigal son needed some help with his chakra detection.

Sakura sat on a nearby stone wall and observed the duo, although this was difficult due to the cloudy night. Every now and then, when the moon peeked out, she caught a glimpse of his profile. But their conversation carried easily in the warm evening air.

"I hope they let me take you with me. We'll be going home soon. Maybe I could teach you how to be a ninja cat. Do you think that would be fun? First you'll need to learn how to talk. I'll have to ask Dad about that."

The boy scratched the back of his head in an oddly familiar manner, eliciting a smile from his mother.

"I guess I shouldn't call him Dad. Because he's not. He's just my sensei. But I was hoping..." Tsuki's voice trailed off as he pet the ink black cat beside him. "I think he did something to hurt Mom, even though he said he didn't. She's so sad, like she was when grandma and grandpa were killed. But no one died."

He was right. No one had died.

"Don't tell Mommy this, but I'm going to call him Dad anyway. Just when you and I are talking. Because I wish he _was_ my dad. I wish I was just like him."

Funny that Tsuki didn't see how much he really was like his father-- not only in looks, but in temperament, abilities, everything. He needed Kakashi, not only as sensei, but as father. They'd both been deprived of the truth for far too long. She decided to tell her son the most basic of facts and fix this horrible mess once and for all.

The pregnant kunoichi rose from her moss covered seat and approached the red gate, but stopped moving when Tsuki jumped to his feet, excitement evident in his cry.

"Susu! I forgot to show you! Look what I can do. I've been practicing, and I think I've finally figured it out. Don't you think Dad will be surprised when he sees this?"

Sakura blanched as large, jagged sparks and then a crackling stream of intense blue light emanated from her son's open palm. How in hell had her son learned how to do chidori?

…..

Taking down the warehouse was a blast, as Deidara might have said were he alive to see the magnificent, perfectly orchestrated series of explosions that completely totaled the structure in a matter of seconds. A blaze broke out next, one that would destroy any vestiges of explosive tags still remaining. Kakashi took one last quick look at the structure before heading out, a satisfied smile upon his face. The rock ninja was right: there was nothing like a good explosion.

He was done, finally. The mission was over, and the sense of accomplishment Kakashi felt was considerable. A trade ring that threatened not only Konoha, but the interrelationships of all the shinobi nations was no longer a problem. With no weapons and no organizational structure, any remnants of Izumi's family company would have limited ability to start over. Better still, as the company's chief clients had also been taken out, a clear message would be sent to any daimyou or government planning an attack against another village, city or country. It would be clear to all involved that this was not a simple case of food poisoning, not when the death toll was calculated. Shinobi involvement would be inferred, and the threat to the hidden villages would thereby diminish.

If Kakashi traveled steadily southwest running at an even pace, he should make it to Grass in fifteen hours or so. It would be an exhausting journey, made more so by the fact that he'd used raikiri to set off the explosion at the warehouse, as well as expended a great deal of chakra in teleporting the considerable distance between Mizu and Lightning. He would have to pass through the unfriendly territory of the former Sound country, as well as two minor nations that were known to be allied with that country. It didn't help that he was wearing civilian clothes. His ninja sandals were necessary to provide the flexible traction needed to jump through trees and glide across rocky terrain, and without leg wrappings or his vest it would be difficult to keep his weapons handy. Not that it really mattered. He'd packed several kunai and a couple of shuriken before leaving Grass, but that would hardly be enough to defend or distract should he be attacked.

Kakashi ran for seven hours straight, avoiding multiple poorly laid traps and several rag tag assemblies of wannabe ninja as he traveled through Star country. Though hilly, it was easy terrain, the type of wooded forest he was used to. The only difference was the trees. They were evergreen, not deciduous, due to the higher altitude of this small section of the continent. But he might have been at home, otherwise. He didn't bother to remove the contact lenses that both disguised his eyes and protected his Sharingan. Considering that he was traveling unmasked, he felt this was a wise decision. Should any real shinobi approach him he could flick out the unnecessary lenses in a second. Of course, in such a situation he'd end up with more blood on his hands. Should they recognize his identity they'd doubtless seek the bounty on his head and advertised in every bingo book. 50 million ryo had a tendency to do that to a person. And therefore he'd be forced to take them out.

Kakashi stopped running as he approached a town. He was thirsty and had seen no reliable sources of water for hours. All were brackish or discolored by algae and bacteria. It did not matter that he had none of the local currency on him-- every town, everywhere accepted gold. He had enough with him for a small feast, despite what he'd told Karai.

The copy ninja entered a small cafe, and was immediately glad of his decision to continue wearing his lenses. The woman behind the lunch counter eyed him sharply, as though she weren't used to seeing strangers. He sat down on a vinyl-upholstered stool and ordered a glass of water and a pot of tea. He wouldn't eat: running immediately afterwards would invite problems. The waitress delivered his beverages with a scowl, informing him that she didn't have change for the gold piece he'd produced. Her face brightened, however, when he let her know she could keep it.

In the kitchen, a radio was blaring. It must be 5 p.m., or so: the evening news was on. A series of local stories, none of them remotely interesting, aired first. But Kakashi's ears perked when the announcer moved onto international news.

"In world news tonight, a disturbing story of mass food poisoning. Our on-the-scene reporter has that story live from Mizu:

I'm here in Mizu-koushi at the Sensui hotel, an exclusive resort that has hosted the world's richest daimyou, celebrities and heads of state. Sadly, tonight this elegant hotel is the scene of devastating illness Its catering kitchen has been linked to a deadly outbreak of botulism food poisoning. The annual sales meeting hosted by the internationally known Mizushima corporation ended abruptly when guests began complaining of stomach pain. The classic symptoms of clostridium botulinum food poisoning soon followed-- diarrhea, vomiting and double vision, followed by respiratory paralysis. At this hour, the hospitals are overflowing and we have just gotten word that at least five of the meeting participants have died. It is rumored that the head of the company, Mizushima Hiro is among these. There have been unconfirmed reports that his two adult children have fallen ill, as well. The luncheon shared by meeting participants has been pinpointed as the likely source of the outbreak, and a delicacy, imported fish sausage, is thought to be the most likely culprit. Doctors at the state of the art Mizu-koushi hospital are perplexed by the fast action of this microbe, as well as its resistance to botulinum anti-toxin, and they have hypothesized that it is a new, even more virulent strain."

Kakashi lost interest in the story as the high-pitched, hyper-feminine voice of the correspondent was replaced by the impossibly resonant baritone of the news anchor. The journalist and potential opera singer began to interview a local physician on the ins and outs of food poisoning prevention. Sakura was right-- the toxin she provided perfectly mimicked the effect of the highly deadly botulinum toxin. It had fooled a hospital full of physicians.

He couldn't help but smile. The kunoichi medic had acted far more professionally than he: she'd completed her part of the mission perfectly. Kakashi should have stayed in Mizu to make sure the poison took effect. If not, other measures would have been necessary. But he'd left in his eagerness to fix things with his lover. Thankfully, Sakura had done her job so well that his irresponsibility was not a problem. There was no doubt in his mind that all participants in the meeting would be dead within hours.

Kakashi returned to the forest and quickly crossed into Swamp country. He ran for three more hours, through terrain more harsh than that of the neighboring Star state. The elevation was lower here, the ground soft and mucky in spots, the trees draped with ropes of tiny, glaucous bromeliads. Despite the latitude, it was quite warm and humid and had the flora and fauna one would therefore expect. The worst of these were the insects: apparently Kakashi's flesh was a sought-after delicacy. If he'd been thinking more clearly, he would have bought mosquito repellent at the last village. None of his thousand-odd stolen jutsu killed insects on contact. After slapping away the umpteenth buzzing plague, Kakashi collapsed at the base of the nearest cypress, resting in the cushion of moss that surrounded it during the dry season. He closed his eyes momentarily, and almost gave in to the suffocating urge to lose consciousness to sleep. This would be foolhardy, or course. Although he'd seen no one for the last few hours that didn't mean he wasn't being trailed. To fall asleep-- into what would likely be a deep, restful sleep-- was beyond rash, particularly when one was traveling solo. Like all shinobi, Kakashi had trained his body to survive sleep deprivation. He should be able to push past the all-consuming exhaustion he felt.

The moment of rest helped him focus his faculties, however, and Kakashi slowly tuned into the very faint sound of cheeping. He searched the carpet-like sphagnum moss covering the ground around him, and easily found a barely feathered infant bird resting on this feathery, emerald quilt, somehow separated from its nest. The bird was far too young to fledge: its feathers were mere porcupine quills, only millimeters long. Though comically ugly in its spiky grey nakedness the bird radiated a certain loneliness that struck the copy ninja. On his hands and knees, Kakashi approached the bird, eager to return it to its nest, which must be nearby, possibly in the branches of the tree he'd sat under. A mother, maybe even a father was waiting for its return.

He should be able to accomplish this seemingly simple task. Despite prevailing wisdom, it was a fact that birds had a remarkably poor sense of smell and rarely rejected their young due to foreign contamination. Kakashi should be able to scale a tree and return the bird without the parents detecting his scent, and if he used the right jutsu, they wouldn't be able to see him either.

He expelled the breath he'd inadvertently held as he crawled closer to the chick. The tiny bird, which couldn't have weighed more than a couple of grams didn't move as he approached, and the reason for this immediately became clear. It shouldn't have survived the fall: the fragile, hollows bones of its back were twisted into an unnatural shape, and its naked, grey wings were held out from its side as though they were broken. It was still chirping hopefully, however, urging its parents to rescue it. Like most children, it had no sense of the futility of certain actions.

Kakashi gently picked up the chick, immediately noticing how cold its flesh was despite the warm day. He was thankful to be spared the problem of deciding its fate as the infant bird expired in his hands. The copy ninja pushed aside the feathery moss below him, and laid the hatchling under its warm, encompassing blanket to sleep restfully before it rejoined the earth.

At least nature took care of its own, this time. That usually wasn't the case. Suffering was very much a part of the much vaunted circle of life.

Kakashi sighed as he rose to his feet. He should calculate his progress before returning to the journey. He quickly realized that at the rate he was running, he wouldn't be home until sunrise at the earliest. The copy ninja was tired, and he hadn't made it into the real enemy territory yet. This was unacceptable. He wanted--_needed_ to see Sakura as soon as possible. It would be like her to do something impulsive, Kakashi thought. Maybe she'd decided to strike out with Tsuki, although her letter to him had suggested otherwise. She had to know better-- running away would be foolish. But he wouldn't blame her. To be burned once and forgive took a strong heart. To be burned twice-- as she obviously thought she was-- was unforgivable.

The copy ninja gauged his chakra as he removed a shoe to rub a blistered foot. It was getting dark. Now was not a good time to enter enemy territory, and damn it, he wanted to spend the night in Sakura's arms, after experiencing the sweet, sweet sensation of reconciliation. Several times, preferably. He shook his head in an effort to ward off the fantasy that threatened to distract him. Now was not the time to be thinking of sex.

Instead he squatted on the ground, after finding the well-wrapped kunai he'd stuffed into his jeans pocket. He easily sliced open his palm again, and patiently drew his second mandala of the day. The distance to travel was shorter in this case, which was extremely fortunate. Yet the copy ninja, veteran of countless battles, assassinations and miscellaneous intrigues could barely focus on his intended destination, the walled-in back yard behind his family's modest apartment.

He ended up in a field a good half-kilometer away from his target, but in one piece, and in record time. He was now even more fatigued, however, and this showed in his stumbling, erratic walk as he hurried across the uneven, stubbled field that lay between him and his intended destination. Kakashi arrived at the apartment as the shadows around him merged into charcoal darkness, and despite his body's near-complete exhaustion, he nearly flew up the steep staircase to the second floor apartment he'd called home for months.

"Sakura? Tsuki?" His voice echoed in the empty apartment, and Kakashi was suddenly reminded of the dream he'd had, the one in which lover and child had left him. The reality didn't quite match up: his footsteps didn't echo as he walked through the small apartment, and the place had not been stripped of every sign of their coexistence. Still, it was disturbing. But that dream was just a sign of his unhappiness, he told himself, nothing more. It was an anxiety dream-- it had no prescient value. Kakashi forced himself to think logically and to move slowly and methodically as he surveyed the evidence before him.

If they'd left, dishes would not be in the sink-- Sakura wouldn't leave a mess for Katayama-sensei to clean up. She was nothing if not thoughtful. And if they'd left, Tsuki's small menagerie of stuffed animals would not still be dotting the bed, each assigned to a carefully defined territory. Nor would there be clothes hanging in the boy's closet-- he had too few to leave any behind. Kakashi checked one final place and saw that their shared tools of the trade were still cached in the space above the hallway ceiling tile. The copy ninja breathed a hard-earned sigh of relief. There was no way Sakura would have left unarmed.

He climbed down from the chair he'd used as ladder and made his way down to Katayama-sensei's apartment.

"I heard her calling for him a while ago. I'd guess the cat got out again. Let me get you a flashlight. It's too dark, and it's getting ready to rain."

Kakashi bowed hastily to the elderly healer before turning away without the proffered lamp. He wouldn't return to the apartment to wait for his family's return, and he had no desire to stand on Sensei's doorstep as she puttered around in search of a flashlight that probably needed batteries. Despite his fatigue, he was eager to see his intended wife and child, although he realized belatedly he hadn't brought back a souvenir for either. The feather would do for Tsuki-- there was a story behind it, after all-- but Sakura deserved some small token of affection, something to serve as placeholder until the stores reopened in the morning. As he headed out of town, he plucked some of the many white flowers illuminated intermittently by the half-hidden moon, and in a mood far more relaxed than any other time that day, climbed the steep rise which led to the abandoned shrine. He avoided the stairs. It would be better, he thought, to surprise the pair. And an off-guard Sakura might be more likely to listen to him.

The first thing he saw when he reached the crest of the hill was Sakura. Kakashi hopped onto the roof of the bell house to better observe her. In the modest light provided by a half moon intent on playing hide and seek, Kakashi could see her face quite clearly at times. He was struck once more by her fragile beauty. Her hair was palest pink in the moonlight, and her features looked as though they might have been carved from the most translucent of alabaster. But the thing he loved most about her, he realized, was the fact that she wasn't hiding her feelings. A range of emotions played across her face in the brief amount of time he observed her. First he saw relief, then amusement, followed by something resembling guilt or remorse as she looked at the boy perched on the crimson torii. Finally disbelief and shock engulfed her features, as it did his.

Tsuki was forming the signs for chidori, and quite adeptly, as though he'd been practicing their execution for some time. And what sprung immediately from the boy's palm was not a novice product, but a mature, A-class jutsu. A feeling of pride overtook the copy ninja, the type of emotion that is innate to any parent's relationship with his child. Tsuki's success was his own-- his and Sakura's. But this primitive response was quickly supplanted by even more primordial feelings of guilt and concern. Kakashi never imagined the boy would be able to learn a jutsu after watching it executed a single time. Pulling off such a skill was far more complicated than memorizing the hand seals. For this class of jutsu, one had to learn how to convert one's chakra into an elemental form. This was not something a genin should be able to do.

Worse, Tsuki had taught himself this jutsu without learning the theory behind it. Every jutsu had its time and place, and elemental jutsu were part not only of an interconnected circle of strengths and weaknesses, but interacted with their environment, as well. Some worked poorly in a desert environment, for instance, while others flourished there, aided by the dry, windy environment. Lightning-based jutsu behaved analogously. They were weak in windy locations, but on an evening such as this, where gathering thunderheads were only minutes away from discharging, a lightning jutsu could be easily magnified. In such an environment, the basic chidori was transformed into an S-class jutsu. It was deadly not only to its recipient, but possibly also for its user.

Kakashi had discovered this through hard experience. As a teenager and new ANBU recruit, he was called upon to escort to Konoha a small group of children, the last kekkai genkai holders of a near-extinct clan. He was without back up on this assignment and had quickly realized that these kids were more than he could easily manage. Each was intent on proving to the others that he was most adept in the usage of his inherited skill. This was to be expected among children. Academy students were masters at one-upmanship, and spent a good portion of the school day engaged in such activities. But as refugees from a defunct hidden village, these children were different. They were unschooled, both in the usage of their kekkai genkai, and in the other ninja arts. They didn't think twice about the dangers of using their skills, either to themselves or to others.

As dusk approached, the group made camp in an open field. Although tactically this was a poor location, there hadn't been much choice, as they were traveling through Grass country. Trees were few and far between, typically near rivers, lakes or sources of underground water. They hadn't encountered any of these for days, so despite the dangers inherent in such an open campsite, Kakashi had reluctantly set down stakes. The boys began taunting each other immediately after dinner, and spike-like copper projections were soon pushing through the skin of each. As often happens among boys, the challenge soon became "Whose is longest?" and Kakashi was quickly surrounded by a small army of metal-enhanced preteens. Some had copper naginata growing out of either side of their wrists, others grew hornlike kuwogata similar to those seen on a classic kabuto helmet, while a few had decided a single, long spike emerging from their skulls would allow them maximum length.

Their antics, idiotic though they were wouldn't have been a problem in most other locations. But in late summer in Grass country, electrical storms were common. Kakashi searched the sky and frowned as he saw a system approaching. Its kilometer-tall clouds, each sooty black at the base, told him vicious weather would soon be upon them. He called to the boys, loudly urging them to stop their horseplay immediately, but they didn't listen. He was just a teenager, after all, hardly older than them, and he hadn't given them any reason to believe he was worth following. Kakashi thought quickly about which jutsu to use on them. He only knew three hundred or so at that time, and had quickly ruled out most of them as too dangerous. He decided on a full scale water dragon: there was nothing to get a person's attention like a good soaking. But the boys, after being thoroughly drenched, continued to tussle, not even stopping at the first rumble of thunder.

Kakashi was about to unleash a small windstorm when the first bolt tore violently through the sky. Naturally it was attracted like a magnet to the small collection of kekkai genkai-manufactured lightning rods held in close proximity, and Kakashi realized he had to act quickly. He jumped into the air, chidori blazing, and deftly sliced the jagged bolt of lightning in two. But as he did so, he felt the chakra surge within and all around him. He was surrounded by a day-bright glow that impressed upon him both how useful such an energy boost would be in combat, but also how much more dangerous it would make pulling off his signature move. The backflow had nearly fried him.

This recollection had barely formed in the adult Kakashi's consciousness when he felt the impending lightning strike. The fine hairs on his neck stood at attention, and his skin prickled as it did when Raikiri fully surrounded him. Kakashi flicked out his contact lenses and gathered chakra as he heard Sakura call out in alarm. She must have felt it, too. He could see her exquisite pink hair beginning to rise from her scalp as static electricity sizzled through the air.

She jumped, just as he did. Both immediately acted on well-honed instincts. But Kakashi aimed for the lightning coursing through the sky on a direct path to the highest object in the area, and the little boy standing atop it. Sakura aimed for Tsuki himself. Kakashi sliced the bolt neatly in two, eliminating any danger to the boy or his mother, but it was too late. In the intense white explosion of light that burst forth from the dissipated electrical charge Kakashi saw two figures clearly. He saw Sakura push Tsuki off the torii, clutching him to herself as she did so.

In the milliseconds that passed, it was hard for Kakashi to capture everything that happened, despite his active Sharingan. The electricity coursing through his system limited his senses temporarily. Perhaps Sakura had made a false step, or perhaps she, like the copy ninja, was suffering from fatigue. Whatever the cause, the two did not land safely. Instead, Kakashi saw mother and child tumble down the long flight of stairs, Tsuki locked within Sakura's protective embrace. The S-class ninja helplessly raced after them, his still-active raikiri lighting the scene with an eerie, strobe-bright intensity. But despite his high level skills, and despite the arsenal of jutsu he held at the ready, he did not arrive in time. Exhaustion could be blamed for that.

Mother and son came to a rest at the bottom of the wide, stone staircase, thrown apart from each other by the force of their impact. Both lay crumpled, looking more like disjointed marionettes than living humans. Under the cold blue light of his trembling chidori Kakashi saw that his son's neck and arms were splayed at odd angles, and that something dark and viscous was seeping out from under Sakura's torso.

"Sakura? Tsuki?" Kakashi could barely cry out their names as anguish overtook him. He doused his lightning blade as he knelt between them, alternately searching each face for any signs of consciousness. Tsuki moaned, and Kakashi joined in him a cry of relief. Then Sakura stirred.

"Don't move him. Please." Her words were a whisper.

"Mommy. Daddy. It hurts." The boy tried to move his neck, and bellowed in pain. Kakashi restrained him, biting his own finger as he did so. The copy ninja's most trusted ninken appeared as the last kana unfurled themselves on the bloodied path.

"Pakkun. Get Katayama-sensei."

The grizzled pug unblinkingly assessed the situation as he replied. "The old woman. Got it." Pakkun ran off into the night, cape waving behind him. He should have removed it, Kakashi realized belatedly. But it didn't really matter. The mission was over, their cover no longer expedient.

"His neck is broken, isn't it?"

"I think so, Sakura. But I can't tell whether..." The possibilities horrified him.

Her eyes bored into his pleadingly. "I want you to tell him."

"Tell him what?"

"The truth...he deserves to know. You, too."

"Later, Sakura. I'll tell him later. We both will." Kakashi's eyes assessed her collapsed form as he ran a fear-soaked hand over her forehead. "Do you know what's wrong?"

"Yes... I need a hospital. Sensei's help won't be enough. She won't be able to move Tsuki-- not even with you. Immobilize him... his spine might sever..."Tears of frustration and pain clouded her eyes. "I can't do anything ... Not like this. I-- My ribs are broken. And... and I'm--" Her face buckled in pain, and her knuckles whitened as she pressed against her belly.

She must be bleeding internally. In the dim light, Kakashi couldn't see any broken bones. Perhaps it was a ruptured spleen, or her kidneys. She'd fallen so hard, repeatedly, that it could be anything. Her breathing was labored, and she'd had trouble communicating to him the last few sentences.

Kakashi turned his attention back to Tsuki. Even on this warm summer evening the pavement was cool. He was likely going into shock.

Sakura, too.

"Daddy?"

Neither of them should have to feel such pain. Kakashi moved his hands in a series of seals, then spoke to his son softly. "Open your eyes. Do you see it?"

"Is it snowing?"

Good. He was distracted.

"It's snowing feathers, Daddy." The boy's eyes widened in wonder for a moment, but he grimaced in pain as he attempted to catch one of the melon pink feathers falling slowly and gracefully around him. "My arms won't move."

"It's okay. We'll fix it. Here." Kakashi pulled the long pink feather from his shirt pocket and brushed it gently on his son's cheek. "It's soft, isn't it? I'm going to tuck it into your shirt. Close your eyes and sleep, son. Everything's going to be okay." Kakashi did his best to hide his own pain, instead searching his son's face for the signs of relaxation that would indicate the genjutsu was taking effect. He sighed in relief when he saw Tsuki slip into unconsciousness and the pain-free sleep it brought.

"That won't work on me." Sakura had turned her head toward the two of them, and a tiny smile graced her lips, a smile that she was clearly fighting to keep in place.

Kakashi moved to her side, opening his Sharingan eye as he did so.

"I know that. You're too good at genjutsu. Look at me. Please."

Sakura stared at him, and was immediately caught by his slowly rotating Sharingan. The stupor of hypnosis quickly overcame her.

"I love you. You know that, don't you?"

She nodded.

"Kakashi, I need to tell you. The reason why I'm bleeding--" Her words were slow and disconnected, proof of her trance-like, suggestible state.

The copy ninja kissed his finger and touched it lightly to her lips.

"Ssh. Sleep, darling."

"What happened?" The elderly healer's voice reached out in alarm as she approached them, flashlight blazing before her. She dropped to her knotted knees, and immediately began examining her two new patients.

"They fell. Tsuki was playing daredevil." Kakashi winced as Katayama-sensei shone the flashlight in his eyes, and winced again as the village healer gasped in disbelief.

"What-- what happened to your eyes? Are they-- are you _bleeding_? And what are all these feathers?"

"There's no time for explanations. Can you help them or not?"

"His neck is broken. I've never dealt with spinal trauma. It's completely outside my area of expertise. God. My God. I don't have the first idea--"

The copy ninja knew what he needed to do. Every passing moment brought his nascent family closer to death. He carefully moved Sakura closer to her son, apologizing as he did so for the pain he was undoubtedly causing her. His eyes widened as he saw the quantity of sticky blood pooled under her hips, and he heard her sensei gasp, as well. Thankfully, Sakura remained unconscious, but her breathing had become irregular. It was clear to Kakashi: he needed to get them to Konoha immediately.

The technical specialist pulled out his kunai, and this time sliced not his palm but the large veins of his left wrist.

"What are you doing?" Sensei's question was accompanied by a shriek of incomprehension. "Don't do this to yourself!"

Kakashi roughly pushed the healer out of the way, barking a command to her to stay out of the way.

"Pakkun, keep her back."

The copy ninja concentrated fiercely as a small river of blood trickled down his fingers. Kana rapidly scrawled forth from this makeshift pen, illustrating the cracked grey pavement with an intricate web of bloody, stylized writing.

Then, slowly and carefully he said the words to activate the long-range jutsu.

He had to have enough chakra left-- Kakashi prayed that he did. He couldn't lose his family again.


	30. Chapter 30 Megumi

**A Book of Five Rings**

Chapter 30-- Megumi

"He's handsome, isn't he?"

This and the sound of giggling were the first thing Kakashi heard as he regained consciousness. He opened his eyes to the bright, sterile light of Konoha hospital's emergency unit. From the cracks on the ceiling and the patch on the curtain surrounding his gurney, he knew he'd stayed in this particular treatment bay several times before. There was a comforting, familiar feeling to the simple furnishings, from the chipped paint of the rolled metal bars on either side of him, to the yellowed plastic dials on the oscilloscope used to track his heart rate.

With an effort he sat up, only to be pushed down again by the nurse attending him. She shooed away the gaggle of nurses and first-year medics gathered at the door, after giving Kakashi an annoyed glare. Apparently he and his good looks had disrupted the discipline of the emergency department.

"Absolutely not. You're much too exhausted. Rest up."

"No. I need to see--"

"Your teammates are in surgery. There's nothing you can do right now." The blond-haired, just over-the-hill nurse turned away for a moment, doubtless in search of an enema or some other portable humiliation device, and Kakashi took the opportunity to jump out of bed and barrel past her and the cluster of overly curious nurses still outside, yanking the electrodes from his skin as he did so. Thankfully, no IV or catheter was hooked into him, although he was sure that if he stayed horizontal much longer both would be forthcoming. It always happened that way.

Luckily they'd left his clothes on, although it really wouldn't have mattered if he had been half-dressed, ass hanging out of his hospital gown. This wasn't the time to worry about such trivial things. Hours had passed. From the total darkness he saw when he glanced through a nearby window he deduced that quite some time had gone by. The sun had set only minutes before they'd left Grass, and the sky was still tinged midnight blue around its edges as he'd formed the final seals to carry them away from the scene of their horrible accident and to Konoha's hospital. But it was probably three a.m. now, considering the thick, inky quality of the darkness outside. The street lights had been extinguished for the evening and no sounds filtered in from the cobblestoned road below. The master of a thousand jutsu hurried down the hall lit intermittently by bare incandescent bulbs, clumsily buttoning his shirt as he did so. A sense of powerlessness overwhelmed him. He wasn't used to not being in control of the situation, of being unable to change a situation to his benefit. Acute worry accompanied this new sensation. He needed to see his family. He needed to make sure they'd made it through the night.

Kakashi rushed through double doors separating the emergency room from the reception area and then stopped short as he realized he needed to compose himself. He was breathing as heavily as if he'd run fifty laps around the village walls without stopping for a moment's rest. Kakashi inhaled deeply, then counted backwards from a hundred in an effort to quiet the anxiety welling up from some hidden place inside him. It wouldn't do to appear crazed: the staff might decide to sedate him and move him out of harm's way.

"Fuyuno Sakura and her son Tsuki-- can you tell me their condition?" The copy ninja managed to camouflage most of the terror enrobing these words, so that their delivery appeared merely urgent, not unhinged.

He didn't recognize the nurse on duty. And obviously, without his mask she didn't recognize him.

"I'm sorry, but how are you related to the patients?"

"She's my fiancee-- wife-- and he's my son." A white lie wouldn't hurt. He knew how particular hospital staff were about following rules to the letter, and he did not want to be turned away on the technicality of his marital status. They'd lived as husband and wife for months-- to be separated from Sakura and Tsuki because of the lack of a particular certificate was not something he could stomach.

The nurse thumbed through several files before locating the two she needed. Perhaps she'd sensed the underlying truth of his statement, as she didn't ask for any information to back up his claim.

"Both are still in surgery. I suggest you sit tight. We'll page you as soon as there's an update. Your name?"

"Hatake," he muttered as he turned away, not waiting for the inevitable reaction of surprise.

Sit tight? Did they really think he would be able to sit comfortably in a cheap, molded fiberglass chair while Sakura and Tsuki's lives were on the line? The copy ninja didn't even bother to pick up one of the dog-eared, hopelessly out of date magazines provided as reading material.

Instead he paced back and forth outside the closed doors to the surgery wing for what seemed like an hour or two. He glanced down at the linoleum underfoot, expecting to see deep grooves worn into it, either by his or others' perambulations, but the flooring showed no sign of his endless circuit. Its bile green surface gleamed as brightly as it always did. He realized he was like a dog tied out on a tether, endlessly walking the same circular path, with no rhyme or reason to support the action, only neurotic habit.

Sakura and Tsuki were okay―they must be. A glance at the clock told him it had been six hours since he'd arrived in Konoha, although he had no recollection of doing so. This was much longer than he had surmised. His wrist and palm were bandaged, and he didn't feel quite as exhausted as he had while tending to his loved ones hours before. Someone had taken good care of him.

Six hours. How long did surgery take? He honestly had no idea, as he was typically on the unconscious end of things when it came to his hospital experiences. But six hours didn't sound good. He imagined Sakura and Tsuki each laid out in an operating room, surrounded by the accoutrements of ninja surgery: mandalas, candles, and a room-spanning hexagram, with multiple medics assigned to each vertex. It took prodigious amounts of chakra to heal internal injuries, and in Sakura's case, they might even resort to scalpels, retractors and the other tools of civilian medical practice. She'd seemed in terrible condition-- bad enough that she'd seemed frightened. Her breath was labored, most likely due to the broken ribs she'd self-diagnosed. Perhaps she'd collapsed a lung, too. And then there was the blood. Too much blood. A fall against stone stairs-- even a prolonged fall-- shouldn't have produced such bleeding. Broken bones, sure. Internal bleeding, certainly. But an open, bleeding wound? It didn't make sense. Perhaps a rib had broken through her flesh, tearing through a major blood vessel as it did so. Or maybe she'd been wearing a kunai to protect herself in his absence. It might have slipped from his holster, and ripped into her flesh. That had to be it, he decided.

Kakashi continued to worry as he continued to beat an oblong circuit between the waiting room and the entrance to the surgical area, taking up each concern the way a monk from the Fire temple might handle the rosary wrapped thrice around his wrist. There was something almost fanatical in this pseudo-religious ceremony: each moment Kakashi recalled was an intricately carved ivory bead to carefully caress. He probed each detail engraved into its surface, memorized every nuance of grain, depth and texture. Kakashi ran through the series of worries in methodical, compulsive order, paused, and began again, matching his recitation to the rhythm of his pacing. At least he'd been there, he told himself. But he should have come sooner. He shouldn't have rested along the journey, shouldn't have stopped for water and tea.

But at least he'd returned in time to move them, if not early enough to prevent the entire scene from taking place. Yet the chidori _had_ taken place. But he wasn't to blame--he couldn't be his fault that Tsuki had picked up that skill so fast. It would be unforgivable if it _was_ his fault. No one could have guessed that a four-and-three-quarters-year old would be able to alter his chakra in such a way. Well, Sakura might have guessed. She'd witnessed plenty of other things during the boy's infancy, now that Kakashi thought about it. They'd giggled over the boy's exploits several times in the comfortable, lazy aftermath of lovemaking. Damn it. He never should have shown Tsuki that jutsu, not without teaching him the dos and don'ts of using it.

This _was _his fault, Kakashi decided. Ultimately, the trail of events producing this disaster could be traced back to him. He'd let his ego get in the way of fathering his son, allowing the boy's transparent adoration to influence his decisions. He'd sought to be admired rather than obeyed and to pal around rather than discipline. He'd fallen into the most obvious trap of parenting-- seeking to be a friend instead of guardian.

He wouldn't be able to bear it if Sakura blamed him for all of this. But he knew she'd be well within her rights to do so. She might never want to see him again or allow him to see Tsuki. What use would she have for a father who tempted his son to do reckless things?

Kakashi stopped short in his walking as his saner self clambered to be heard. He was worrying needlessly, he told himself, casting the beads of his obsession away from him and listening as they scattered to the floor of his mind in a haphazard clatter. He was assuming two facts not yet in evidence. Sakura and Tsuki had been in horrible shape the last time he saw them. Their very survival was currently in question. He should be thinking of them, not about what might happen to _him_. Once he was sure they'd made it through the night he could allow himself the luxury of self-recrimination. Should they live-- and they must live!--he'd willingly take his punishment, even the harshest one Sakura might mete out. Kakashi sank onto a slatted wooden bench, emotionally exhausted by the waiting and the endless dialogue of his id and super-ego. He slumped forward, resting his head in his hands, then tugging and squeezing the unruly clumps of silver hair poking up between his fingers. The small pain he felt as he pulled against his roots was comforting, a soothing though small reminder of what his loved ones were going through.

What would he do if even one of them died? His life would change completely. Kakashi imagined first Sakura gone from his presence, and then Tsuki. The effect of losing either was the same. Together they filled a hole that seemed abyssal. The loss of even one of them would be like losing a vital part of himself. He could do without an arm, or leg, or even his Sharingan eye, but he would be reminded daily of its absence, and taunted by the small things he'd previously taken for granted. So it was with his family. He _had_ taken them-- all of this-- for granted. But now he would gladly give up a part of himself-- any part of himself, if that meant they would be returned to him.

Losing one of them would be beyond painful. But if he were to lose both of them...he wasn't sure if he could survive it.

For the first time in his life, the copy ninja felt the need to pray. He wasn't a religious man. He honored the dead, particularly his lost friends, and he believed in the will of fire that passed from old to young in an endless progression. But Kakashi didn't pray for favors. He didn't ask for good weather, or favorable fighting conditions, or any of the silly things that justified others' visits to the countless shrines in the village and beyond. He assumed life's events were based on chance, on random happenings beyond mortal control. Praying was useless, just a mechanism to calm oneself down, a way to feel as though one had the tiniest bit of control over the faceless universe. He hadn't prayed when his mother and father had died, or for Obito, Rin, Minato-sensei, Asuma, Jiraiya, or any other of the scores of friends and colleagues lost in battle.

But Kakashi prayed now. Something primal in him told him that this _was_ the right thing to do, that if any one was listening, maybe he, she, or it would intervene. It wouldn't be on Kakashi's behalf, certainly, but maybe some benevolent god would consider Tsuki, with his delightful innocence or Sakura, with her beautiful, impulsive and temperamental personality. Maybe that god would decide these two were worth saving. Kakashi prayed to any and all of the ten thousand kami that both his loved ones would come through whole, that his son would walk again, that his intended wife would be healed of her broken bones and internal ruptures.

He'd give anything. Anything.

It wasn't that much to ask. He'd never asked for anything, of anyone. He gave and gave to the village-- his blood, his labor, his well-honed sense of right and wrong, and had never requested anything in return, apart from a place to live and enough money to drink himself stupid.

But now he wanted payback-- the smallest, meanest of gifts. When Kakashi considered all the lives he'd saved, either directly or through combat maneuvers and even by assassination, two lives seemed like modest recompense.

_Please let them live. Please give me my family back._

He pleaded to some unnamed entity for mercy, to anyone who might listen.

"Coffee?"

Kakashi looked up to see Yamanaka Ino standing before him, paper cup in hand. She looked different than he remembered. At some point she'd grown into even more of a stunner than he'd recollected. Of course, she was nothing compared to Sakura. Like his lover she wore her hair down now, around her shoulders, but her cerulean eyes were as sharp as they'd always been.

"I thought I might find you here. You look a lot better than you did a few hours ago. I take it there was a problem with the mission. I heard Tsuki and Sakura are still in surgery-- things must have been pretty bad."

"You work here, right?" That was a stupid question. Of course she did. She'd been a medic for years, almost as long as Sakura, and apart from that she was carrying a white lab coat, not the most fashionable of garments. Kakashi accepted the coffee gratefully, taking a long sip of the steaming, black beverage. It was bitter and overpoweringly intense, a perfect partner to the events of the past few hours.

Ino nodded in response to his query, and shifted her weight from one foot to another, as though she were dying to tell him a secret, or pry one from him.

"You know," she said finally, "you shouldn't let your chakra run so low. You were on empty. It took three of us a good hour to get you back to a minimal level."

It had been Ino then, who'd done such a good job taking care of him.

"Thank you."

"It was the least I could do after all you did for team 10 when Asuma-sensei was killed."

"Can you find out about them, Ino? No one has told me anything."

The junior medic hurried away, lab coat in one hand. Her shift must have just ended, Kakashi realized, and the coffee she'd given him was her own, picked up from the employees' canteen. Or maybe she'd purchased it expressly for him.

_Generous, just like Sakura._

She returned moments later and handed Kakashi a surgical mask, a small incongruous smile on her face given the situation he was facing.

"She was right." Ino waited for Kakashi to secure the mask before continuing. "About your face. Her idiot teammates were sure you had fish lips, or buck teeth, or some type of disfigurement. But Sakura was sure you were handsome."

Kakashi didn't respond. Now was not the time to be thinking of times past. It was like Sakura, though, to assume the best of him. His mood brightened ever so slightly and he barked a strangled half-laugh. This was obviously Ino's intent. She was far better at interpersonal stuff than he'd thought.

"How is she? And Tsuki?"

"They're almost out of surgery-- that's all they would tell me. Someone will be here in just a few minutes to talk to you. Kakashi-sensei, she's getting the best care. They said Tsunade-shishou is heading up the team." Ino laid a hand on his arm in a comforting gesture. "Don't worry."

"How can I not worry?" His voice cracked, releasing the anguish churning inside of him like noxious vapors through a newly formed volcanic vent.

Ino looked at him carefully before continuing. "You're Tsuki's father, aren't you?" she asked cautiously.

Sakura had asked him to tell Tsuki, not anyone else. The receptionist didn't count-- telling her was a means to an end. But certainly Sakura wouldn't want him to tell the town crier, even if they were long time friends.

"I care about my teammates. I'd give my life for them."

Ino's brow furrowed. "I'm not the gossip I used to be, you know. Being the butt of jokes does that to a person. I care about Sakura, and I could read between the lines of the letters she sent me when she lived in Waterfall. She didn't describe Yuki the way a person talks about a lover. And she left so suddenly. You don't have to be Shikamaru to be able to put those facts together." Her face tightened for a moment, and Kakashi was reminded that like Sakura, this kunoichi had been unlucky in love. But at least Sakura hadn't fallen for a closeted gay man. "Besides, she told me she had a crush on you. And Tsuki―in her letters she said he took after her father. But I saw a picture of Fuyuno Yuki. Tsuki doesn't look anything like the man."

Kakashi sighed. Being around this woman was tiring, even if as she claimed she wasn't trying to pump him for information. He really didn't have time for this. He should be thinking of _them_, focusing all of his energy on them.

"She can't die," he said aloud.

"She won't." Ino shifted the coat she still carried to pat his arm again. "Take heart. They'll be out to see you soon."

"Soon" turned out to be another hour. He added this to the string of concerns he'd reassembled: how long did it take to clean up after surgery? Kakashi jumped every time the double doors swung open, and a small surge of adrenalin rushed through him as he looked at each passing medic's face, hoping for eye contact. The triple espresso Ino had given him made him even more tense than he'd been before. He considered pushing past the next medic passing by to get through the doors before they clanged shut with a chakra-enhanced seal. Apparently the hospital staff had thought long and hard about the security needed in a shinobi hospital, both for the patients and their worried families.

"Hatake-sama?" Kakashi looked up to see a vaguely familiar face, the only flesh peeking out from the white, hooded coveralls clothing his body. It didn't seem like the most practical clothing for a medic to wear, considering the working conditions typically encountered in their field. And the hood, with its bulging ear coverings, made the man look like some kind of alien explorer. This was hardly a comforting image.

"I have news." This was said with a blank expression and voice completely devoid of emotion, as though the Sai of many years ago had decided to enter the medical profession, bedside manner be damned. Or perhaps the man really was an alien.

Kakashi's knuckles turned white as he clenched the wooden rails of his seat.

"She's going to make it."

A wave of relief crashed over Kakashi like a breaker removing all obstacles from its path. The storm was over, he realized. The flotsam of his worries was about to be washed away with the departing tide.

"Most of her ribs are broken, and it took quite a while to start them healing. She needed surgery for her arm as well."

Her arm? He hadn't noticed, caught up as he'd been in everything else.

"And she lost quite a bit of blood. The child, though... I'm sorry, but we'll have to wait and see."

"The child? What? What do you mean? Where is he? I need to see--"

"That's not possible right now. The patient is still in the recovery room. She hasn't recovered from the anesthesia yet."

"What has that got to do with anything? Let me see my son!"

"Hiro, I'll handle this." Tsunade strided up, lifting an eyebrow of warning at the bearer of bad news. The unfortunate medic quickly scurried away.

"You can see Tsuki, Kakashi. He's resting right now." The Godaime led him down a well-scrubbed, if shabby hallway and silently slid a door aside. "He's on heavy pain-killers, so he'll probably be slipping in and out of consciousness. And you'll notice that we had to put him in traction."

The boy looked like he'd been chosen to test a medieval torture device: the rack, perhaps. His shaved head emphasized his frailty and made it easy to see that a strange, tong-like apparatus seemed to be welded onto-- no, inserted into-- his skull. Kakashi noticed a pulley and weights attached to this metal handle that hung freely over a bracket clamped to the head of the bed. No wonder Tsuki was drugged to the point of unconsciousness. He'd likely be immobilized and in pain for weeks to come. Apart from this major surgical intervention, one arm was also in a cast, as Kakashi expected, and the other in an immobilizing sling. At least these other injuries were run of the mill.

Kakashi slumped into the seat beside his son's bed and carefully caressed the boy's face, kissing his own fingers before touching them to the boy's rosebud pink lips. He couldn't complain. Tsuki was alive. That was what he'd asked for. He'd deal with any complications gladly, thankfully. He'd carry his son around for the rest of his life if that was what was needed. He hadn't lied when he'd promised anything to have the boy back.

"He was extremely lucky. You did well not disturbing him. He has a spinal fracture-- C3 vertebra. If you had shifted him, he'd likely be a quadriplegic right now. There's nothing medical ninjutsu can do when the spine is severed. We haven't found a way to regenerate those cells yet. Not even my genesis rebirth technique can do that."

"Will he...walk?"

"As far as we know, yes. We'll do some tests once he's more stable. Given the damage he's suffered, I don't think he'll be disabled permanently. But it's not going to be easy. It will be slow and painful-- almost torture." Tsunade narrowed her gaze as she stared at him assessingly. "So, care to tell me exactly what happened?"

"Kid stuff." There was no way Kakashi was going to tell the Hokage the truth, not when the Godaime considered Sakura the daughter she'd never had. "The mission was a success, by the way. Targets eliminated, trading ring decimated. I returned to Grass. Sakura had followed Tsuki to a local shrine. He was goofing around on a torii. It was the highest point in the village, and a storm was coming in. Sakura jumped to rescue him, and she lost her balance. I couldn't--" He paused to take a breath, willing his voice not to crack. "I saw them bounce down the stairs." Like the springy, pink rubber ball found in every toy chest. The image of his lover and son crashing over and over against the hard edges of step after step seemed burned into his retinas, an afterimage that time did not seem to ameliorate.

"Daddy." Eyes that reminded Kakashi of his own mother fluttered open.

"Tsuki. Son."

"I had a dream." His words were foggy, as though he were half asleep. "There was beautiful snow falling. But it was feathers. I think a flock of birds must have lost all their feathers. Pink birds, beautiful, soft snow."

"How do you feel, tiger?"

"I'm sleepy, Daddy. And my head hurts." Kakashi watched as his son struggled to move. "It feels like there's something heavy on it."

The boy's eyes shifted downwards, and he struggled to focus his gaze on his blanketed body. "Did I break both my arms?" Kakashi nodded. The difference between a fracture and a dislocation was not worth explaining, although Tsuki did seem a little more lucid than he'd expected.

"Your arms are out of commission for the moment." Kakashi stealthily lifted the lower half of the thin bedspread covering his son's small frame, and ran his fingernail along the boy's sole.

"Ha! That tickles, Daddy!"

The relief Kakashi felt was soothing, like a cool rain at the end of a horribly muggy day. If Tsuki could feel his feet, chances were he'd be able to walk again. It might be a difficult recovery, but Kakashi would be there to help. Hopefully.

The copy ninja gazed apprehensively at his son, who had suddenly gone quiet.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"No. Mommy's okay, isn't she?"

"Yes. I think so. I'll see her in a couple of minutes."

"I don't want you to leave."

"I...Don't you want me to check on Mommy?"

"That's...that's not... you're going to leave us, aren't you? We won't be a family anymore. I don't want--" The monitor beside him announced the boy's distress, the strident beeps emanating from it increasing in pitch and number.

"Tsuki, don't cry. I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you, I promise." Tsunade hurried to the bedside to adjust the boy's drip, glaring at Kakashi as she did so. Disturbing the patient was not acceptable behavior-- he should know that.

Almost immediately the boy calmed down, as more of the potent analgesic flowed into his system.

"But Mommy..." His voice seemed cloudy, like something an impressionist might paint.

"I love your mommy. I'll fix things, Tsuki. Whatever's wrong. I promise."

"I want you to be my daddy."

"I...I want that, too.' Kakashi smiled as he ran his hand across his son's troubled brow. "Tsuki, do you think it's funny that we look so much alike?"

"Yes. Everyone in the Grass village said I was your spitting image. That made me happy. I pretended you were my _real_ dad."

"There's nothing wrong with that. I want to be your real dad. I _am_--" Kakashi cut himself short. It was Sakura's place to tell him, even if she had given him permission to do so. And now that her son had survived, she might feel it appropriate to rescind that permission. She had dumped him after all, and she probably wanted nothing to do with him now that his incompetence as a parent had been put on display.

"Oh... That would be so nice. Daddy..." The way Tsuki called him that was so tender, so unlike any name that had ever been used to address the copy ninja before. "Do you think I'll have another good dream? With feathers?" Tsuki closed his eyes. "Did you see, Daddy? I did it! I did it...I made lightning and it sang." The boy's face relaxed into an angelic smile as he drifted off again on an opiate wave.

"I'm proud of you, son," Kakashi said quietly, although he was sure the boy couldn't hear him.

He felt Tsunade's quizzical eyes on him and willed her to remain quiet. Surprisingly, and uncharacteristically, she did so.

"Would you like to see Sakura now?" The two silently left the room.

"Why did he lie to me? That medic-- he said Tsuki was touch and go." Kakashi felt self-righteous indignation well up inside of him. Why would the man do something as cruel as telling him his son's life was in danger, when clearly it was not?

"Did he? That doesn't make sense. He wasn't assigned to Tsuki-- he wouldn't know anything about his status." Tsunade frowned. "What exactly did he say to you?"

"He was talking about Sakura. He said she'd lost a lot of blood. That her ribs were broken, but she was going to be okay. But that the child--"

Tsunade's amber eyes widened in disbelief.

"You didn't know."

"Know? What was I supposed to know?"

"She's carrying your child, Hatake. How could you not know that?" Tsunade looked at him with the distaste she typically reserved for flunkies.

"She _what_?" A wave of nausea overcame him as the Godaime's words sank in.

The blood. All of that blood. As she lay crumpled at the base of the shrine's hundred-odd stairs Sakura was hemorrhaging, miscarrying their child. How stupid was he not to have realized this?

"The baby-- will it live?"

"We don't know. The placenta partially separated from the uterine wall. That induced labor. We were able to stop the contractions herbally, and my team and I did our best to reconnect the blood vessels. But we can't predict what will happen next. She may go into labor again, or the placenta may detach. We'll just have to wait and see. The fetus is fine right now. It's vitals were within the normal range even while Sakura was being transfused. It's a tenacious little thing."

"How far along is she?"

"Eight or nine weeks. The chakra signature is strong. It intensifies right around now."

_Shit_.

Sakura had known. There was no way she wouldn't know. A woman might miss the signs of a first pregnancy, but surely not the second. And a medic as accomplished as Sakura would know sooner than most.

But when had she known? When they'd made love that last time? She'd cried then, her tears a torrent of pain and anguish. But it wasn't solely because of the infidelity she thought she'd witnessed. Kakashi was now certain of this. It was because she was pregnant as well and faced with the specter of another solo pregnancy.

_Sakura_.

Kakashi entered her room quietly, unwilling to wake her, and surveyed the scene before him. Draped in a thin bed sheet, bare shoulders exposed, she looked like a reclining statue he'd once seen in an Earth country mausoleum. She was beautiful and unmoving, like a marble figure blushed with faint pink highlights and fine blue-grey veining. But the narrow tube taped under her nostrils and the IV line attached to her arm marred the image of a lifeless Iwagakure princess laid to rest, and when he approached her more closely and noticed her steady, even breathing the illusion crumbled, thankfully.

She was human, fully human, merely asleep--and he loved her madly for it. He loved her hot, sometimes vicious temper, her impulsive nature as well as the contradictory patience she displayed with her son, her patients, and even with him. Yes, she angered easily, but this only made her love more fully. One couldn't truly experience one without fully knowing the other. She was caring, loving and powerful-- everything he could possibly want in a mate.

And she was beautiful. Her hair fanned across the pillow like some exotic seaweed found only at the lowest of tides and in isolated places, and her lips, he noticed, were Tsuki's. The boy _did_ take after her, if only in the most subtle of ways. She would be happy to hear it, and even happier to hear her son's prognosis was good. Kakashi's eyes lingered on those lips. He wanted to kiss them, if not with the forcefulness that would signal to her how much she meant to him then with a gentleness that promised that he would honor and cherish her forever.

Kakashi carefully leaned over her, mindful of her injuries. He half straddled her with a hand to either side of her face, and kissed her lightly. Then he gently, slowly moved his hands to touch her abdomen, and marveled immediately at what he felt. It was too early to feel any movement-- Sakura's abdomen was still as flat as any teenage kunoichi's-- but Kakashi could feel chakra, a tiny, steady pulse of chakra different from that which he recognized as hers. He brushed back his hair and opened his left eye. His Sharingan visualized the chakra more clearly: it resolved into a comma-like, pulsing blue shape deep within his lover's abdomen, connected to her by a branching, root-like network of vessels. This was the strong, vital energy of a future warrior, a fighter who would surely inherit the will of fire. He had nothing to worry about, he realized. This baby would not give up without a struggle. He would fight to be born.

Sakura shifted slightly in the narrow bed, causing the thin top sheet that covered her to slip away, exposing the bandages that fully covered her torso. They were wrapped tightly, he saw, binding her like an old-fashioned corset and surely restricting her breathing. That explained the oxygen line, although it was probably for the unborn child as well.

"I'm going to be a father again," he murmured as he gently caressed Sakura's belly. "But this time, I'll do it right. This child will call me 'Daddy' from the start, and he'll know what it like to have his father around." Kakashi grabbed Sakura's hand, kissing her palm before continuing. "And his mother will know--"

"_Her _mother will know." He'd thought Tsunade had left him before he'd entered the room. How very like her to barge in on a person's most intimate moments.

"It's a _girl_, you sexist pig. And you'd better be a good father. I'll have your head, otherwise."

He couldn't miss the smirk that crept across the Godaime's face before she turned away to exit the space. It confirmed for Kakashi that she'd planned this all along. She'd hoped extended proximity would bring him and Sakura together, and her strategy had worked.

"_What_ will her mother know?" He barely heard the cracked, whispered words. Doubtless Sakura's voice was hoarse from intubation.

Kakashi gazed into his lovers tsavorite eyes, realizing he'd never seen any as lovely as these. "That I love her. More than I love anything else. More than life. More than myself."

"The baby is okay? And Tsuki?"

Kakashi nodded, happy to give her news that coaxed a small, relieved smile to her face.

"If you hadn't shown up when you did the baby would have died. It's a miracle that she survived. Your daughter owes her life to you. And so does your son. He would have died in Grass."

Kakashi swallowed the lump growing like a malignancy in his throat. Sakura's praise was hard to accept-- especially when it was his fault the accident had occurred.

"If I'd gotten there five minutes earlier, this never would have happened. Tsuki-- I never guessed he'd figured out how to do chidori."

Sakura shifted in an effort to sit up in the bed, but sank down again quickly, an expression of acute pain rippling across her face.

"Don't blame yourself. If it wasn't that it would have been something else. He broke his leg on my watch, remember? And when he was a baby, he climbed the wall of our apartment building in Waterfall, and heaven knows what he's done when my back has been turned. Kids are like that." She paused to gaze at him critically. "You've been beating yourself up about this, haven't you?"

"I was so worried." Kakashi grabbed Sakura's hand-- the one part of her he was sure had not sustained injury-- and held on to it as though he would never let go. "When I saw both of you lying there, I thought I'd lost you."

She squeezed his hand. "You _saved_ us. Tell me about Tsuki. Did you look at his chart?"

"Er, no." Kakashi hadn't even considered doing so. It wasn't like he'd understand what was written in it. "Tsunade said she's pretty sure he'll get back all function, that he seemed responsive. He could feel me touching his foot."

He could see a cool wave of relief wash over Sakura.

"Is he in a halo?"

"Halo? It looked more like tongs attached to a pulley."

"Poor baby. He'll be uncomfortable for a while. I want to see him. I hope he's not scared."

"Until they can move one of you, I'll stay with him."

"Thank you. Tell him I love him, okay? Kakashi--"

"Yes?"

"I should have told you. You deserved to know about the baby."

"No, Sakura. I should have told _you_. I didn't sleep with her. Nothing happened. Sakura, I would never--"

The kunoichi reached her hand out, as if to admonish him. "I know. I figured it out, eventually. After Karai told me." She sighed. "He's dead, isn't he? There was something good inside of him. It was very small and probably didn't see the light of day very often, but it was there."

Kakashi nodded again, impatient to change the subject. "Sakura--"

"I'm sorry for the letter I sent you. Before I even talked to Karai I realized--"

"Sakura, marry me. I'm not going to ask you again."

"I realized I'd take you as you are, Kakashi. If you'd let me."

"Does that mean 'yes'?"

"Yes." She chuckled, although this clearly was painful to do. "Tsuki will be happy. He told Susu he was going to call you "Daddy" anyway. "So how do you feel about being a father again?"

"It's hard to say. I don't think I have the words. Could I... _may _I name our daughter, since I didn't get to do the honors last time?"

Sakura smiled again. "Sure."

"Megumi."

"_Megumi_. Is she a gift to you?" Sakura was trying not to cry.

"You all are. I treasure you."

Despite her tear-stained face, the copy ninja had never seen Sakura looking happier. Her smile was her son's, Kakashi noticed, the same small beatific expression he'd seen earlier.

"When we get out of here, would you consider moving in with us? I know it's my parent's house, but it's not like I grew up there. It's neutral territory."

Kakashi laughed. "Territory? I wasn't aware we'd be waging war. Sakura, I'll live wherever you want. I'm yours."

He wanted to say more, but he couldn't find the words. He wanted to tell her that she'd utterly changed him, that only months ago he'd wanted to embrace death, had seen life as a quiet hell to endure before the sweet, final embrace of death. That the quarter-life of a homeless, cirrhotic drunk held more appeal to him than a life spent whole as shinobi. But now things were completely different, and it was all her doing. He wanted to live, with her and Tsuki and his daughter. He'd changed because of Sakura, and he couldn't imagine living his old life again.

But since the words weren't there, he embraced her-- carefully-- instead.

* * *

"I want the butterfly clips!"

"Hold still," Sakura responded as she attempted to pull her daughter's unruly silver hair into two bushy pigtails.

Sakura topped the girl's temporarily subdued hair with sparkly plastic butterflies, and stood out of the way as the three year old spun madly, the long sleeves of her kimono flowing behind her like iridescent wings.

Sakura glanced at herself in the closet door mirror. The kurotomesode kimono she wore was black and fairly plain, as expected for a wife, apart from the hem which was decorated with a swirling cascade of autumn leaves outlined in gold thread. The garment was one of several extravagant gifts from her husband, the pearls she wore another. Megumi's kimono was not-- it was Sakura's from twenty two years prior, discovered among a treasure trove of belongings saved by her pack rat father. It was cerise, the perfect color to set off her daughter's hair, and scattered with fantastical butterflies of every color of the rainbow. The girl had claimed it as soon as she saw it and had waited impatiently for an opportunity to wear it. Today was that day-- her day of blessing at the Fire shrine.

"I can fly, Mommy!" Megumi climbed onto her bed and jumped, landing clumsily in the geta she was wearing for the first time, then running to the balcony window.

"Mommy! Mommy! They're coming! I can see them!" Sakura's daughter raised her arms as she ran downstairs to avoid tripping over her voluminous sleeves and Sakura hurried behind her. Thankfully the energetic young girl hadn't decided to jump from the balcony. She was a bit more sensible than that, one small way in which the daughter resembled her mother.

"Don't get dirty!" Sakura cried ineffectually as the child ran out the front door and into the road, eager to greet her father and brother. Sakura followed slowly behind, savoring the reunion scene unfolding before her.

"Daddy! Oniichan!"

Megumi leaped into her father's arms, pulled down his mask, and littered his face with sweet, sticky kisses. She was definitely a daddy's girl, and Kakashi reveled in the near-constant attention. Megumi was the spitting image of her father, even more so than Tsuki. She had Kakashi's anthracite eyes, and a juvenile version of his perfectly straight nose, although she was missing his dimple.

"I'm a butterfly, Daddy."

"I thought you were my pumpkin." He hugged her tightly and kissed her on the forehead.

"No, butterfly! See?" She flapped her arms wildly, her pigtails bouncing as she did so.

"Oniichan!" Megumi struggled to be released from her father's embrace, then circled her brother like a dog elated to see its master. "Susu is going to be a daddy! He told me!"

Thanks to Pakkun, Susu was reunited with Tsuki days after the boy finally left the hospital. In the intervening time, the dog had taken the cat home to his family (a generous act, considering his species' feelings toward _their_ kind), where the feline had quickly learned how to talk.

Tsuki was limping, Sakura noticed, although this was barely noticeable. It signified only that he was tired. The boy had worked hard to recover from his spinal injury, but although minimal, there had been some motor damage. He'd struggled through it, finally regaining full control of his body. It was only when he was completely worn out that the scars of this battle were apparent. Due to his long rehabilitation it had taken him some time to make chuunin. Unlike his father, he didn't get there at age six. His promotion had happened only months ago, after three attempts at the exam. But the fact that Tsuki was likely several years away from earning jounin status was fine with both Sakura and Kakashi: they wanted to hold onto their son for a bit longer and had no desire to push him.

"Megumi-chan, I have something for you." Tsuki hugged and kissed his sister before producing a plain, flat stone, which caused the three-year old to wrinkle her nose in disgust. Likely she'd wanted something pink and covered with butterflies and glitter. Sakura couldn't blame the boy for not wanting to indulge his sister's love all of things feminine. He was an excellent brother, full of love for his younger sister. He was patient as well, despite her sometimes exasperating penchant for following him around almost everywhere.

"Oh. I thought it would be those purple shuriken you told me about." Megumi's lower lip pushed forward in a shameless pout that elicited a chuckle from Kakashi, and a sigh from his son.

"It's for skipping across the lake," Tsuki said. "Look." He rubbed the stone between his hands and handed the now glowing rock to her.

"It will come back to you if you call it." He laughed as his sister began to talk excitedly to the stone, completely missing the meaning of his statement. Sakura laughed as well. Megumi was as literal as her older brother had once been.

"Good mission?" Sakura kissed her son on the cheek and her husband on the lips. Kakashi didn't pull back immediately, despite the fact that they were standing in the middle of the road. Instead his lips lingered on hers, conveying to her how much he had missed her.

They ignored the groan of disgust her nearly eight-year old son made.

"I hope you're rested," the copy ninja murmured, eliciting a giggle from his wife.

"You're late, by the way."

"You said two o'clock."

"It's three."

"But you always add an hour of padding. So I'm right on time."

This was true: they weren't due at the shrine until four p.m. That didn't stop Sakura from harassing Kakashi a bit more. Shichi-go-san was a special day. It was just like him to procrastinate his return to the village, given that he hated to be part of a spectacle.

"Get inside and shower. Both of you. You stink."

"That's not a very pleasant welcome. Come on, Tsuki. She may turn the hose on us otherwise."

Sakura waited for her husband just outside the bathroom door, tapping her fingers on the door frame in a manifestation of her impatience.

"Notice anything different about me?" Sakura asked as Kakashi exited the room, clad only in a towel.

"Um, you trimmed your hair?"

"Idiot. I did that before you left. Open your eyes-- both of them."

Kakashi's towel dropped to the ground as his eyes opened even wider in astonishment.

"How far along?"

"Two months."

"Now we really need to celebrate. Think the kids can entertain themselves for a while?" Kakashi wrapped still-damp arms around his wife and nuzzled her neck.

"Stop! You'll ruin my kimono."

"I'll buy you another." Kakashi murmured, refusing to cut short his soggy embrace.

"Tsuki! Daddy's naked!" Megumi flitted past the reunited couple, giggling madly as she did so. "I can see his chinpoko!"

"Let's go outside, little sister," Sakura heard her son respond, a touch of exasperation in his voice. He was at the age where his parents had become an embarrassment.

"Tsuki? Are you dressed?"

A groan was heard from the room further down the hall. "Do I have to wear wafuku? Can't I just wear my uniform?"

"No," Kakashi answered. "This is a special day for your sister. Just like it was for you three years ago."

"Your kimono is laid out for you. Hurry up, we don't want to be late."

"You already _said_ we were late, Mom."

"I lied. Now get ready. You, too." She picked up Kakashi's towel and snapped it at him, forcing him to retreat into the refuge of their bedroom. "Are you ready to be a father again?" she asked in a more quiet tone, once she was sure they were alone.

"Absolutely. Think it will be a boy this time?"

"Yes, actually." Although he loved Megumi dearly, Sakura knew that another son would be special to Kakashi. There was something important to men about fathering a boy child, an instinctual pride of ancient origin. The birth of a male seemed to reinforce a man's sense of masculinity, even when the child was the second or third son.

"What if he has pink hair?" The worried look that stole across Kakashi's face was priceless.

Sakura rolled her eyes. "Silly. Only girls in my family get that hair color. I'm sure he'll look just like you-- your genes seem to be a whole lot stronger than mine."

"As it should be."

"You're acting pretty cocky for someone who's hoping for sex tonight."

"_Hot _sex. Hot, steamy, pregnant wife sex."

"Hmm." Leave it to Jiraiya's heir in perviness to find morning sickness and soon-to-be-bulging belly a turn-on.

"Think Tsunade will take them off our hands tonight?"

"I'm sure I can find someone. If you behave yourself."

"I always behave myself. You look beautiful, by the way."

Sakura blushed at this transparent effort to ingratiate himself. Sadly, it was working. "So do you. Handsome, I mean." And he did. The inky blue kasuri-weave kimono Kakashi had dressed in contrasted perfectly with his hair and skin. He'd look like a movie star if he removed the mask he was now sliding over his head.

"Ready." Tsuki came to their door, also clad in navy, a smaller version of the man she loved. He held his sister's hand, and for once the little girl stood quietly, undoubtedly due to her adoration of her big brother.

"Well, then. Let's go."

The family clambered downstairs and stepped out into the waning sunlight of an autumn afternoon in a village that welcomed them as family. Sakura sighed contentedly. Her life was better than she'd ever imagined it might be. And she knew her family felt the same way.

End.

* * *

_Author's note:_

_Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story and/or supported its creation, particularly roxnroll, IcarusT, sayurinomoe, moderndayportia and leafygirl. Your edits, suggestions and all-around positivity inspire me to write more. My next (and probably last) multi-chapter kakasaku fanfic will be Mizuage (I want to be ready to start writing my novel come November and nanowrimo). I should be posting the first chapter of Mizuage in about three weeks (mid-April). It will be a departure from my usual stuff, as it will be a somewhat dark and unvarnished look at kunoichi life. Despite that, I hope you all will continue to read. Thanks!_


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